Broken
by Stellar3
Summary: D/Hr. They are forced together by one thing, but find an unexpected surprise. Lust, hatred, trust, justice, unjustice, prejudice, pride, sex, fights, battles, rivalries, and the impossible all rear their heads in the most epic war of all time: Love.
1. A Broken Beginning

Broken

2003

by Stellar

  
  


Indeed, he had could not imagine how time could stand so still. He watched it. It came creeping out of the darkest corner of his room, slithering across the floor, up his bed postings, and along the black folds of the fine Indian silk sheets until it choked his throat and forced itself in like bad medicine. Draco Malfoy lay on his bed, slowly becoming painfully conscious that it was yet another day.

The goddamned sun, he sneered in disgust.

Sighing, he flung the luxuriously expensive sheets and comforter off of himself roughly, sending it reeling across the bed and falling on the opposite side. He didn't care. He was never the one to clean it up. Draco ran his immaculate hand through his soft, wispy platinum blonde hair, which was not at all tousled. He was rather sluggish this morning, taking extra care to tread excruciatingly slowly and quietly on the hard, almost unbearably cold stone floor. He walked by the mirror, not even taking the time to glance at it, and into his luxurious bathroom that was contingent to his bed chambers.

The bathroom held a very wealthy debonair, almost to an ostentatious point, of which he had absolutely no objection to. The rich, black marble had been imported from Italy, the high ceiling was punctuated with an ancient antique chandelier that had been a Malfoy family heirloom for over four centuries, the walls were painted a deep, rich green hue in honour of his placement in Slytherin, the entire room accented with pure silver, from the frame of the full-length mirror to the sink to the faucets on the overlarge circular bathtub, all encrusted with emeralds. 

He knew he was ridiculously wealthy, not that he minded. 

He quietly strode over to the sink, almost gliding, and reached his strong hand out, turning the silver faucet to emit freezing cold water and splashing it over his face. It woke him up abruptly, but his angular face showed now change in expression. Suddenly, he almost regretted that water on his face; it woke him up, it meant he was awake, it meant he would have to go back to Hogwarts today. 

God, I hate school.

After Draco got dressed and descended the stairs to meet his mother and father in the dining room, he knew there was no point arguing about how much he did not wish to go back to school, for his parents would not settle for such "nonsense." However, this did not stop him as they sat down to quietly eat their breakfast before heading off to Kings Cross Station.

Pushing bits of egg around his plate in a rather bored manner, Draco casually commented, "Is it absolutely necessary for me to go back?"

Lucius Malfoy threw his fork squarely at his son's forehead, making a slight thud and then a booming clatter as it toppled to the marble floor. A nearby house elf scattered to receive it, merely to quickly brandish a new one and replace it next to Lucius, before receiving a vicious kick from the father and scampering back, unnoticed, into the shadowy corner of the room. Apparently, it was common for one Lucius Malfoy to heave forks at family members in the morning, for the house elf was already busying himself getting another ready in anticipation.

"Certainly," Lucius hissed, radiating with such rage that Draco assumed that his father must not have gotten a good sleep during the night. Suddenly, Draco screwed up his face. No, how ridiculous of me, he thought. My father is always like this.

"Why? I hate Hogwarts, and it's crack-pot professors, and all the stupid people there," he said stubbornly. He knew he should be acting more mature, really, as he was entering his seventh and final year at Hogwarts, but he felt that if his wishes could not be satisfied, then he would at least piss off the people who refused to fulfill it. He was spoiled, and he knew it; what was more, he liked it that way.

Lucius was just absolutely beside himself in anger. "Because I said so, Draco! Do not push me today!"

"You mean, don't push you any day," Draco mumbled into his plate.

Now he had done it.

The fork was thrown once more. As well as a couple of hexes.

"Draco, you little bitch, what on earth has gotten into you today?" his mother barked promptly from where she sat, her back rigidly straight against her chair, her silvery-white blonde hair perfectly in place, legs crossed gracefully like a princess. Looking upon Narcissa Malfoy, one would never guess that she was capable of such biting words and expressions. 

Ah, yes, my dear mother. Father is the physical and mental abuser, and she the verbal, he mused to himself. It had always been that way. I didn't really bother him anymore. As for the hexes, Draco just ignored them. His mother would fix them after breakfast while she scolded him, as usual. If there was one thing he learned in the Malfoy household, it was to never object the punishment subjected at home.

Draco was silent, then: "Well, perhaps it was the food." He paused. "Then again, I am seated here with the two of you twits, badgering on, yelling at me, throwing various objects at me, and..." Draco didn't get a chance to finish.

"You ungrateful-!!" Lucius sputtered before he hurled another object at his "prized" son. This time it was a plate. Draco immediately reacted, swiftly snatching the askew plate and gently placing it next to him with ease, ready for one of the nearby house elves to retrieve it.

There was a steady, blistering silence, then, "As it is, I don't understand why you hate school so much. Hogwarts is the best wizard school, have you," his mother nervously rattled; it was clear she was trying to avoid a fierce battle that was sure to come on if things kept up. She slightly shifted in her chair, showing her unease.

Draco rolled his grey eyes. "If it wasn't for that stupid, lucky, ungrateful bastard Potter and his oafish sidekick Weasely, I might actually enjoy school. Not to mention that bookish mudblood, Granger," he scowled. "And on top of it all, I've got that simpering ninny Pansy Parkinson to deal with, and those idiotic so-called "friends" of mine, Crabbe and Goyle. It's like I am surrounded by half-wits... That Parkinson bitch, she plans on fucking marrying me!"

His mother looked at him indigently. "What's wrong with her? She's a pureblood, from a very respectable family!"

Draco couldn't help but snort. Her, Pansy Parkinson, respectable? Surely then, he knew his mother did not know of her hiking up her unbearably short skirt and shagging everything that had a pleasurable object between his legs.

Lucius, who looked as if he had calmed down enough, stated, "I would have no objections to your marriage of that girl. She is pureblood, respectable enough, family is loyal to Our Lord, and as I hear it, a reliable source to Our Lord for information inside Hogwarts."

Draco sighed. "Yes, father, but have you seen her face?" he sneered incredulously. "It's like someone promptly smashed it in, smudging her nose, making her face all round, flat, and fat!"

Lucius had an look on his face that clearly expressed he thought the same.

However, Narcissa, who happened to be extremely good friends with the girls mother, suddenly exclaimed, "Goddamn it, you little mother fucker, if you haven't anything nice to say then don't say anything at all!" She glowered at him.

"Fine, if that's the way you want it," he hissed. Draco got up, leaving his practically untouched plate for the house elves to collect and clean. He marched down the main entrance hall of the Malfoy Manor, down the eerie lawns, and to the nearest road. He stuck out his thumb, and the Knight Bus promptly appeared. He was not worried about his things arriving to school; this had happened more than he would like to admit.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Incessant screams and fits of rage filled the air, their gruesome sounds floating upstairs and into Hermione Granger's ears. She held her headphones tightly to her ears as not to hear her parents fight again, letting the music drown them out as she wrote poems in a book. The book was ordinary looking, with a thick black leather covering and a silver clasp. It had been a present from her father on her eleventh birthday, meant to be a diary for her to keep through her years at Hogwarts. It had come to be something like that, she supposed, because she expressed her feelings and thoughts in black and white on the slightly yellowed paper, save it was in poetry form. Around the poems she had drawn little sketches depicting the themes, not that they were any good, and even pasted wizard pictures that young Colin Creevy had been so happy to take for her.

Hermione's brown eyes stared down at a blank page. The music she had been listening to had stopped, and her parents angry voices had begun to float back and settle in her ears. It wasn't as if her parents always fought, she thought to herself, trying to brush it off. After all, they were both very nice to her, and they never fought in front of her. In fact, they hardly fought at all when she was around; she just knew on the rare occasions that they did fight, it was completely and utterly horrid. This was one of those times.

She sighed and looked down at her little book. The page she had been staring at was still black, waiting patiently in its faded glory. Hearing the terrible sounds downstairs, she could think of nothing to fill it with. She closed the book quickly and laid back on her blue-carpeted floor, staring up at her popcorn ceiling, wishing she was anywhere but the place she was supposed to call home. 

"Well if you hadn't gone out all night and come back to our home and your wife with fucking lipstick on your goddamn dick, I wouldn't want to divorce you, you fucking asshole!" Mrs. Granger shrieked from downstairs, throwing something that promptly smashed into the dining room wall and shattered.

Tears started to well up in Hermione's eyes, and she closed them tightly and bit her lip, not wanting to omit her frustrated tears. She couldn't take this anymore. She grabbed her book that had been laying, neglected, beside her. Decisively, she got up, and bravely left her room. She went down the small beige-painted hallway, treading carefully on the white carpet as if she was afraid it would break. Slowly, she descended the stairs, the tears she had been holding back now silently streaming down her face, to the living room. There, by the front door, were her school things packed neatly atop of one another. She paused, looking at them oddly, blinking through her tears. She found it peculiar that her things were packed so neatly and tidy, while she herself was not; ironic, she thought. She did not dwell on it, but instead moved on into the dining room, where she was faced with her parents screaming at one another and several various and broken objects that had been thrown scattered in pieces on the floor. She simply stood in the doorway, saying nothing, barely breathing, seeing if they would notice that she was there.

It took them a while. Four minutes passed before the arguing couple noticed their seventeen-year-old daughter standing in the doorway with tears streaming down her face. 

"Oh, Hermione..." her mother tried to begin, but Hermione just held up her hand.

"Can we go now? I don't want to be late," she said steadily, her voice smooth and never faltering, calm.

Her father stood there, looking extremely guilty and slowly, cautiously walked towards her. He put his arm around her shoulders, slowly turning her around to walk towards the living room to collect her things. "Sure, honey," he said, his voice deep and desperate, "I'll take you now." He didn't give a second glance at his wife, who sat rigidly on their blood red sofa, legs crossed, thick black mascara flowing down her face, her neat brown hair in a pretty plait. Hermione looked over her shoulder as she was led out by her father. Mrs. Granger managed to give her beloved daughter a teary smile before she was ushered out of the front door with her father and school things in tow.

The car ride to King's Cross Station was stiffened in silence. Mr. Granger sat rigidly straight in the driver's seat, and to the left of him sat his daughter, Hermione Granger, a broken girl of seventeen. Behind them were her school things and her bottlebrush tailed ginger cat, Crookshanks. Crookshanks, fat and happy, sat in the back atop Hermione's trunk full of books, oblivious to what was happening in the front seat.

Which wasn't much.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Draco Malfoy stepped onto the Knight Bus. The driver was young, wore ridiculously thick glasses, and was covered in pimples. Draco recognized him, of course, but could not place his name. He shrugged. It was unimportant to him, another passing in time. 

"Where to?" piped the driver.

"Kings Cross," he muttered, dragging his feet up the steep steps of the wizard bus.

The driver nodded and the door snapped shut. Draco, without wasting time, found a bed in one of the magical compartments, laid down on the bottom bunk, crossed his arms, and stared up at the bottom of the top bed, thinking about his life.

Which wasn't much.

Sure, he was rich. Sure, he was smart. Sure, he was good-looking. Sure, he was a pure-blood. Sure, he was the seeker for the Slytherin Quidditch team. All of that he knew, all of that was fact. However, he also knew that he was rich only because it was inherited money from his long linage of family. He knew he was only on the quidditch team as seeker because his father had given the team Nimbus 2001s as a gift for doing so. Also, he was really only smart because his father pushed him to be better than that blasted Granger girl, which still ultimately failed and he received quite a few good bruises and cuts for. As for his looks, he had clearly gotten the good traits from both his mother and father and their parents practically inter-breeding them in order to get results such as himself: the rich, smart, talented, good-looking, well-mannered, slightly snobbish, subservient, and particularly mean pure-blood Draco Malfoy, all in order to keep up the family name. 

Which was a heavy burden to bear. It sucked, really, how much he had to put up with, being the only heir to the Malfoy name and your parents thinking you not to be the slightest bit worthy of it. Put up with school, put up with Potter being glory-boy, put up with Granger always getting the top marks, put up with Pansy Parkinson's screeching and disgustingly flirtatious attempts to get him to actually like her, put up with losing at Quidditch to the Gryffindors, put up with the incessant rambling of his mother, put up with his father hitting him, lecturing him, pushing him, forcing him, hurting him emotionally and physically, put up with having all the wrong girls fall all over him, put up with having to be quiet about what he thought and felt, put up with not being able to confide in someone in order to keep all possible signs of home life and dark activity at bay, show no emotion, show no emotion, show no emotion.... He thought of how he had to "learn his manners," as his father so aptly put it, and follow behind the footsteps and darkened shadow of Lord Voldemort, no glory, no personal gain, no true benefit. It really, truly, absolutely, and completely sucked.

Yes, it really does, he thought, sighing. He closed his silver gray eyes, wishing to sleep and calm his mind, but there would be no such occurrence. The Knight Bus promptly stopped and let Draco off about a block from Kings Cross Station in an old alley way as to not create suspicion. In a flash, the bus was gone, and Draco Malfoy was left in the dark alley.

Wasting no time, he walked out of the alley and headed towards Kings Cross. His footsteps were light and soundless, as they were trained to be over years of practice, as he walked along the dark cobblestone alleyway. He stood tall, perfect posture to keep him looking superior, moving with graceful ease and rigid alertness. His robes billowed slightly behind him at the slight breeze coming off the streets and into the alley, ruffling his white-blond hair ever so slightly. He was the perfect model of acquired grace, skill, and balance in his movements, streaked with such a flawlessness that none could compare to; what was more, he knew it.

He rounded a corner of the alley, having finally reached the streets where muggles drove quickly by, honking their horns angrily at one another, changing lanes, completely oblivious to their surroundings and completely immersed in their own personal affairs and problems, not at all sympathetic. And at this thought, in an odd way, he knew he could commiserate with them to some degree, as he too was absorbed in his own problems, not really caring about anyone or their problems if they weren't connected to his own. He hated knowing, then, that he actually had something in common with muggles. Shrugging it off, he decided it was not particularly important.

Soon, his legs had carried him to the station in a fairly short amount of time, only five minutes or so, and practically glided through the barrier between nine and ten, passing from the world of muggles to the realm of magic. The platform was nearly barren at this time, having gotten there at nine o'clock in the morning, two hours prior to departure, which was absolutely unnecessary, all save he left more quickly than planned due to some rather disturbing problems earlier in the morning. He walked straight towards the scarlet steam engine with his arrogant confidence and stepped easily onto the train, not having to fuss with the usual crowd of people that came later and stuffed themselves around the train. He smirked to himself, knowing he now had the advantage of getting the best compartment. He began to hurry along the train corridor, trying to find the biggest, most luxurious one, but was met with disappointment in that they were all exactly the same. 

Then it hit him. He was supposed to sit in a different compartment this year. How could he have forgotten, even for that instant? He reached inside his pocket and pulled out a small, shiny silver badge. He pinned it quickly to his robes, a symbol of his unrelenting dedication to...what? His father or his school and studies? Regrettably, he knew the answer: his father...He sneered down at the badge, hating it then, and head towards the end of the train to the compartment he was supposed to be in this year. To his pleasure, he found it to be considerably larger than the rest, with softer cushions and pillows, and a nice, plush carpet, and thick red drapery to block out the pestering sun. He sighed, contented. This was much more his style.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

In the Granger's car, there was a still, humming silence. No one had spoken since they left the house. No one dared break that still, humming silence for over twenty minutes now; only the passing cars got their say as they buzzed by, and occasionally Hermione stifled a yawn.

"Hermione," Mr. Granger began stiffly, "your mother and I-"

"Want a divorce," she finished for him, staring blankly ahead at the bleak, gray road.

He gripped the steering wheel uncertainly, dumbfounded at the bluntness of his daughter. "Well, yes," he said strangely. "Are you okay with that?"

"Okay as I ever will be about it," she said flatly.

"Right then."

Silence.

"Hermione, your mother and I want the best for you, we really do."

"So this is what's best for me?"

"Hermione, sometimes we have to think about ourselves. Your mother and I have, well, we have, you know, we've..."

"Fallen out of love?" she suggested, staring blankly into the horizon ahead of her.

He blinked, apprehension dawning on his face, as if the thought was new and hard to grasp. It was. "Yeah, I guess we have."

"I know," she said flatly.

Silence.

Fifteen minutes later they arrived at Kings Cross Station. Hermione promptly got out of the car, collected her things, and hurried off to Platform 9 and 3/4 before her father gave her an awkward farewell. She pushed her trolley along the station, her possessions piled up so tall she could barely see over it all owing to her short height. Once she reached the platform, she plunged through the barrier between nine and ten, emitting her to the awaiting Hogwarts Express, where wizards and witches were hauling their trunks amongst various other objects onto the gleaming red train. Plumes of thick, gray smoke issued from the steam engine, looming over the families that were waving goodbye to their sons and daughters in a sea of people. Hermione continued struggling through the crowd, pushing people as kindly as possible out of her way with her trolley until she saw someone she knew. 

The Weasely twins. Both nearly six feet tall, slightly burly, and completely identical. They were hauling students' trunks onto the train, helping those who where struggling under the weight of their belongings. As usual, what caught her attention was their flaming red hair, which matched all of the rest of their five other siblings; that, and they weren't really supposed to be there. Hermione clearly remembered that they had graduated the previous year, having shown quite a spectacular show of Filibuster's wet-start fireworks during their graduation ceremony. Curious, she approached them as they heaved another trunk onto the train for a rather scrawny first year student. They spotted her immediately.

"Oy! Hermione! Back for another year, eh?" yelled one of the twins over the heads of a few wizards lined up around them. 

Hermione recognized him as George, and finally pushed her way completely through the crowd and to the twins.

Both George and Fred looked down at her now. "Heard you made Head Girl this year. Congratulations!" Fred smiled.

"Got any clue who the Head Boy is yet?" George asked.

Hermione smiled and shook her head. "Haven't the slightest. I reckon he's worthy of the position, though."

Fred nodded. "Well, we know you certainly are, after years of keeping that nose of yours stuck in books," he teased.

Hermione just smiled at them. "So, what are you two doing here? You graduated last year."

"We know," they said in unison, laughing. George began to explain, "Well, we're seeing off Ron and Ginny. Mum and Dad are still in Romania visiting Charlie."

"How's the joke shop business going?" she asked.

George gave a weary smile. "Well, it's going. Taking a bit more time to pick up momentum than we thought, though. Making new prank toys and inventing is easy and fun, but the business and marketing side... Well, that's another thing."

Fred nodded. "But it's coming along. We've got a new campaign coming up is fall, and we've just opened shop in Hogsmeade. Maybe you can come and see us during your Hogsmeade visits? Lord knows we could use the company."

Hermione nodded fervently. "You know I'll visit you two. People need some good laughs these days." Especially me, she thought, but didn't let it show. "I'll even help promote you around the school if you want," she added, smiling up at them.

George's eyes got wide. "Really? Hermione, that would be wonderful. It would really help loads."

"No problem," she nodded, glad that she could help with something.

Fred noticed all of Hermione's belongings piled up on her trolley. "Hey, speaking of help, do you need help with that?" he asked.

Hermione realized the pile comprised of her trunk, books, wardrobe, and even her cat. She doubted she could get all of it on the Hogwarts Express by herself. "If it's not too much, thanks." 

They began to board Hermione's things onto the train. It was nearly eleven o'clock, which meant they had a few minutes left. They finished getting everything on board, which was then magically moved to a storage compartment with the rest of the students belongings. The twins each took their turn hugging the girl before waving goodbye. Hermione began to wonder through the compartments of the train, trying to find her two best friends, Harry Potter and Ron Weasely. 

Two minutes into her search, she heard a loud banging noise and muffled curses issuing from a compartment. Upholding her duties as prefect from last year and now as Head Girl, Hermione picked up her stride in search of the troublesome compartment. She soon found a rather peculiar compartment, of which the brilliant red door to was shaking, banging with a thud every second or so. Their were muffled groans and muttering issuing from within, and Hermione held her breath, reaching for the doorhandle and expecting to see one of the worst fights she would yet bear witness to.

But there was no fight at all. As soon as Hermione turned the brass knob of the compartment door, she was propelled backward and into the opposing wall by one Pansy Parkinson, who was struggling to pull her hot pink skirt back down from its previous hiked position. Hermione looked Pansy Parkinson over, from her hiked up hot pink skirt, tall high heals, ruffled hair, unbuttoned blouse, and smeared lipstick, it was obvious what she had been doing. She scowled, and then looked up, searching for the other culprit. There, in the doorway, now standing well above six feet tall, was none other than Ron Weasely, zipping up his pants with a very extremely embarrassed look on his face. If she was not in such a state of shock, Hermione would have been amused to notice that her best friend's face was so red and hot she might possibly be able to fry an egg on it.

Hermione sputtered indigently as Pansy rolled off her, standing up and adjusting her skirt again. "Ronald Weasely! Never, ever could I have imagined- so terrible- on the train! Slytherin! With a Slytherin! Never...sink so low!" she managed to get out through her absolute fury. 

Ron just stood there. He didn't know what to do. Pansy began to wail. 

"Miss Parkinson, do refrain!" Hermione barked at the skinny blonde. She immediately quit crying. Hermione pulled herself off of the floor and dusted her robes off. "Ron, Parkinson, come with me. We will report this to Professors McGonagall and Snape this instant. You two will then explain yourselves," she exclaimed.

"But Hermione! I'm your best friend!" Ron said pleadingly.

Hermione held up her hand. "Best friend or not, you clearly committed a crime on this train! You broke the school rules."

"Hermione," Ron begged, "Please, don't do it. I'll get expelled. I've got a lot of not-so-good looking things on my record... They'd have my wand for this. McGonagall won't tolerate it!"

"Neither will I!" Hermione snapped. Her Head Girl badge was now more apparent and gleaming than ever, a symbol of her unrelenting authority.

"Hermione...." Ron gasped, crestfallen at the unfaithfulness of one of his two best friends.

Hermione looked up at Ron, realizing what this could do to him. Pansy Parkinson stood uncertainly next to him, shifting from one perfectly manicured foot to the other. She sighed. "Okay, Ron, Parkinson, I'll make a deal with you. If you promise to keep whatever romantic interludes between yourselves absolutely secret to the point that I nor no one else has any suspicions about the two of you at any time, I will only turn you in for kissing in public this time. You will each get detentions for your actions, but it is better than expulsion. Do you understand?" she asked calmly.

Ron and Pansy both looked as though they wanted to hug her, but Ron was the only one who actually did. Hermione hugged him back awkwardly, patting his shoulder with a strange expression on her face. "Thanks, 'Mione. You know this means a lot to me. Anything I can do, anything at all.... Well, just ask for it." He let go of her, and she gratefully exhaled.

"All I ask, Ron, is that you keep your love life away from my eyes," she laughed. "Now, Miss Parkinson, Ron, follow me. We're going to the head compartment. You still need to receive your punishments from McGonagall and Snape."

Ron sighed and began to follow Hermione, Pansy and her hot pink skirt in tow.

  
  


*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Draco Malfoy adjusted the collar of his robes before he headed out of his compartment. He was going towards the Head compartment to meet with the professors, who had called a meeting between the Head Boy and Girl. He was fairly reluctant to go to the meeting, as he was quite positive he knew for certain who the Head Girl was, but nevertheless he did not want to make a bad impression. Hell, if he showed up early, he might even make her look bad. He began to take long strides, his black school robes billowing out behind him as he pushed other students out of his way. He was on a mission, as it was.

In a short time he reached the Head compartment and turned the brass knob only to find a somewhat confusing situation. There was Hermione Granger, and, just as he had suspected, she wore her Head Girl badge proudly just below her collarbone. But she was here nearly fifteen minutes early! He scowled. Of course she's here early, she wants to upstage me, the damned mudblood. He almost growled. Draco's eyes began to scan the rest of the room. McGonagall was there, as expected, and Snape as well, both looking rather disappointed and furious. At what? he wondered. Then he noticed the Weasel, his hair red as ever, almost as red as his face....and....Pansy Parkinson? Oh no, surely they haven't....He looked at the two of them, who quickly exchanged nervous glances at one another. He almost laughed. They have. They most diffidently have. Amusing, really.

"Did I miss something?" he prompted. He looked at his watch. "Unless I am mistaken, the meeting isn't to start for precisely another thirteen minutes, but it is apparent that I have missed quite a bit, no?"

Everyone in the compartment turned to look at him. 

"Hello, Draco," Snape said smoothly, his oily voice gliding through the air. McGonagall acknowledged him with a curt nod. Pansy turned and looked at him with the utmost adulation, while Ron simply opted for a rather obvious scowl. Hermione had gone rigid, and slowly turned around, surprised at the young Malfoy's appearance in the Head Compartment. He saw her eyes flicker quickly over his shiny, silver Head Boy badge, and she looked up at him with some expression of a twisted terror. He smirked.

Then, to his utmost surprise, none other than Harry Potter stood up from a secluded, dark corner of the compartment that Draco had skipped over. It caught him off gaurd, but Draco Malfoy did not falter. He titled his head curtly and gave a quick nod. "Potter."

"Malfoy," Harry said, gravely, and without movement.

McGonagall, sensing the tension between the two young nemesis, started speaking: "Mister Weasely, Miss Parkinson, I trust I do not have to tell you how disappointed I am in your inappropriate behaviour. You both know that a public display of affection at this magnitude is simply unacceptable. I had thought you two to know better, being in seventh year now, but clearly not. Mister Weasely, your punishment is to clean the entire trophy case again with muggle cleaning supplies." Ron took the moment to take a long gulp, reflecting back on his second year when he had received the same detention, save he had been belching slugs all over the trophies for quite some time before actually getting to clean them. "Also, you will dust and organize the books in my office alphabetically while you receive a lecture from myself on the seriousness of this matter." Ron swallowed hard. Professor McGonagall then looked at Pansy Parkinson severely. "And you, Miss Parkinson, your punishment rests in the hands of Professor Snape."

As if on queue, Snape stepped forward. "Miss Parkinson, I sentence you to cleaning my Potions room with your personal toothbrush and re-bottling fifty different potions. You too will receive a lecture for your actions," he said greasily, as if he had just laid a death sentence out for the poor girl. 

"You will report to me immediately after the feast to receive the dates and times for your detentions. You are dismissed," said McGonagall. The two teenagers nodded and left the compartment silently.

"Now," barked Professor McGonagall, "to the more pressing issues. Mister Malfoy, Miss Granger, if you please," she gestured for them to sit at the nearest chairs, which were, to the dislike of both students, next to each other. They sat, albeit reluctantly. McGonagall looked down at Hermione, positively beaming with pride, and then at Draco, somewhat surprised that he had made it this far. "Congratulations to the both of you. As you probably are already aware, you two are the finest students at this school, each selected specifically to be the perfect role modules for the other students at Hogwarts. You are here for your commitment to our facility, its students, and faculty. You are here for you commitment to your studies, and your overall well-roundedness of character, while still maintaining a respectable position with your peers and professors. However, with this great reward you also gain great responsibility. As models of this school, you are to keep up in your studies, coordinate prefect meetings, keep in close relations with all professors to relay information from the professors to the prefects and other students, coordinate according passwords for each house, to be changed every two weeks, monitor the prefects and their usage of their newfound power over other pupils, participate in faculty meetings, stay over Christmas holidays to watch over the remaining students, and stay a week after school lets out for preplanning for the upcoming year. Is that understood?"

They nodded slowly, taking in the sudden influx of information. 

"Now, I don't expect you two to remember all of your responsibilities off-hand, so I have taken the liberty of posting a list in your joint dormitories," explained Professor McGonagall. 

"Hang on...Joint dormitories?" Hermione asked incredulously.

She nodded, her intricate wide-brimmed pointed hat adorned with moons and stars wobbling slightly on top of her head. "Precisely, Miss Granger. Joint dormitories. Yourself and Mister Malfoy are two share dormitories this year, as to stay close in connection in order to coordinate the aforementioned activities. You will be in separate sleeping quarters, of course, for obvious reasons," she said as Hermione took the moment to blush and Draco took the moment to smirk, "however, you will have an adjoining bathroom, common room, and library. Understood?"

Hermione shakily nodded. This is going to be a long year, she thought.

"Which brings me to another point," McGonagall began sternly. Hermione and Draco both snapped to attention once again. "In enlightenment of the joint dormitory, Mister Potter has come forward with concern." Harry stood at attention and nodded slightly, while his eyes stayed focused evilly on Malfoy. "As he has now made me aware, the two of you seem to have bad blood between one another-"

"There's no bad blood in me, professor," cried Draco incredulously. "It's Granger that's got it!" he said, pointing a long, pale finger at Hermione, who scowled indigently. 

"If anyone has bad blood in here, Malfoy, it's you!" retorted Hermione, crossing her arms and glaring at the Slytherin. 

"Me?!" he cried, his grey eyes now glowing with hatred. "You're the mudblood, Granger!"

"At least I've got real friends, Malfoy!"she snapped.

"Oh really? I bet you don't even have a social life, burring your nose in a book to block out all the bad things in your life! I bet your parents fight a lot, don't they Hermione? I bet they're too busy wrapped up in yelling at one another that they don't even notice you, do they, Granger? That's why you put your nose in books so much, to block out the sound!"

Malfoy had struck a chord with Hermione, who broke into hysterical crying. She slapped him hard across his smooth, pale face. McGonagall gasped at Hermione's display of violence. "At least I have parents that love me, unlike yours, Malfoy!" she shrieked. She stood up quickly, knocking her chair backwards behind her, and ran out of the compartment.

Draco was fuming with fury. He stood up and marched after her, but not before kick a chair in his wake and slamming the door behind him.

"Oh my," said McGonagall, dazed from the violent occurrence. "I see what you mean, Potter," she said staring at the brilliant red door that had just been slammed shut. Harry nodded, his wild black hair up on all ends.

"Well," said Snape's greasy voice, floating up from the corner where he was standing, "this is going to be an interesting year."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

  
  


Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling is God. I do not own copyright on Harry Potter. I merely own the plot development of what I hope is this good fanfiction story that I have begun.

Author's Note: Hello, all. I am back. It's me, Hype, one of authors that has been at FanFiction for years now. However, for those of you who don't know me, I've decided to get a fresh start after a particularly hard-to-break writer's block. So, please, if you know me or remember my work, don't hesitate to contact me via e-mail, which is in my profile, as pathetic as it is.

Anywho, how did you like this new beginning? Good? Bad? Ugly? Do tell. I'm sure you will find that I am rather open to all criticism and/or praise. If you do wish to, ahem, "flame" me, be my guest. My hope for you is that you will someday realize that by flaming me, you accomplish nothing. I will continue to write simply because I love it, and a little bad review isn't going to stop me; in fact, it adds fuel to my fire because it makes me want to write more in order to get better, thereby making the "flame" review have the opposite of the desired effect. Sorry if that disappoints you. Also, I do not hesitate to publicly humiliate the intellect of these so-called "flamers" if they leave an incoherent "flame" review. Understood? Good. So, for the rest of you who intend to leave good reviews and/or constructive criticism, I salute you, your graciousness, and intellectual aspects.

Oh, and just so you know and aren't surprised, for those who do leave reviews (good, bad, and even "flame"), I do leave notes for in the next chapter, as I like to interact with the readers of my work as much as possible, for it is there that I can gain a good account of what my writing is worth, what needs to be improved, what needs to stay the same, etc. 

With that being said, I bid you adieu until the next chapter, which shall be posted in approximately a week's time. 

  
  
  
  


On one last note, and this I hold true, the more reviews I get, the more willing I am to post a new chapter sooner. Just a bit of incentive, you know.

  
  



	2. Still We Crawl

Broken

2003

by Stellar

"Underneath it all, we feel so small. The heavens fall, but still we crawl."

--Nine Inch Nails

  
  
  
  
  
  


Hermione Granger bolted through the halls of the Hogwarts Express, trying desperately to find an empty compartment to stay in so she could cry freely, hiding her tears from the world. However, there was a glitch in this particular expedition: all of the compartments were presumably full. She had almost given up, really, when she at last had made her way to the very back of the train and found the empty compartment that she was supposed to be in- the Head Boy and Girl compartment. It stood out from the rest, really, and she wondered how on earth she had missed it. There it was, at the very end of the hall and dead center, with it's shiny red doors glinting like hard candy in the steady, calm light of two scones set on the side. It was labeled in shiny brass lettering. She couldn't believe she hadn't thought about it before.

Just as she reached out to turn the brass knob, a thought crossed her mind. She was supposed to be sharing the compartment with Malfoy. She shuddered at the thought of that malicious brat waiting on the other side of the seemingly innocent and welcoming door, just waiting to make more biting comments. For a moment, Hermione Granger thought about turning around and going elsewhere -- to where she did not care, as long as it was away from that Slytherin prat - but it wasn't long before she dismissed the thought by her cool use of logic. If Malfoy was indeed in the compartment, she would just shut the door, turn around, and go back to the Head compartment that she had so rudely left and cry on Harry's shoulder. If he wasn't, she would remain and cry here. Besides, she was supposed to spend the whole year with this bloody wanker, so why should she run off in terror at the mere inclination that he might *possibly* be in the compartment before her? Good heavens, she was being ridiculous. Decisively, she turned the knob, expecting the worst.

It never came. The compartment was devoid of any blonde, aristocratic wankers for the time being. She gratefully sighed, went over to the neatly cushioned bench, laid down, and began to cry. Curling up into a nearly fetal position, Hermione let her tears soak her unruly curly hair that was sprawled about her as she thought about what Malfoy had said... It had been true, really. She didn't really have much of a social life outside of Harry Potter and Ron Weasely. Sniffing, she curled up as closely as possible to the soft, velvety cushions. And she did bury her nose in books to block out the sound of her parents arguing. Mind you, she buried her nose in books for other things than that, obviously, for the gain of knowledge and such... It was just that, honestly, Malfoy had struck a chord with her; a very, very sensitive chord at that. Apparently, she had made it obvious enough for even Malfoy to point out, and it hurt her that such private thoughts and feelings of hers could be exploited by the likes of one particularly snotty Slytherin, of all people. 

After fifteen minutes of frustrating pondering over Malfoy's insight into her personal affairs, as well as accumulating new evidence to support her hatred of the smarmy git, Hermione Granger fell asleep naming off alliterations to Malfoy's, in her opinion, foul being. Mean, malicious, meddling Malfoy....

  
  


*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

  
  


In the Head compartment, Harry Potter stared after the door were Hermione and Malfoy had left. Behind him, McGonagall was standing with one hand holding her chin, her other arm supporting it below in a thoughtful position. Snape was next to her, arms crossed moodily, and he stood perfectly still, rigid, even. McGonagall turned to Harry.

"Potter, are they always like this to one another?" she asked, obviously hoping that this was a one-time event.

"Worse," Harry said, nodding, much to her disappointment. 

Snape emitted a sound then that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle, but Harry dismissed it quickly. Apparently, Snape had been clearing his throat. "Might I suggest, Minerva, that we devise a plan to keep Mister Malfoy and Miss Granger from being at each others throats whilst they stay in the joint dormitories?"

McGonagall turned and glared. "And how, Severus, are we going to do that? You saw how they acted around one another."

Snape kept his arms crossed, and it was obvious that there were tensions between the two professors. "Perhaps create portrait holes that connect directly to Mister Malfoy and Miss Granger's common rooms? That way, if they begin to fight, they can leave to go to their own dormitories."

McGonagall stiffened, and it was apparent that even though she would hate to admit it, Snape had a rather good idea. "I will make arrangements with Albus," she said shortly, and then turned to Harry. "Mister Potter, you are dismissed. I believe you have two friends that could use you right now."

Harry nodded quickly and left the compartment, closing the door behind him. He began to look for Hermione, as she ran out of the compartment sobbing. He searched for nearly fifteen minutes, and, deciding that she must not want to be found and needed time for herself, he gave up and began to look for Ron. It wasn't long until he found him, seated alone in a compartment, looking completely miserable. 

Ron Weasely ran his thick, rough hands through his already-tousled hair. He looked quite a fright, sitting stiffly on the compartment bench, hunching over quite a bit, his elbows on his rather square knees, jaw clenched rigidly, clutching his forehead in agony. He couldn't believe he did it. He just couldn't believe it. Across from him now stood his best friend, Harry Potter, who surveyed him carefully over the black rims of his glasses. The silence was deafening.

Harry spoke up first. "Well, this certainly has been an interesting day so far," he said carefully, waiting for Ron's reaction.

Ron snorted, but didn't move a muscle from his miserable position. "To say the least."

Harry shifted his weight uncertainly from one foot to the other, pursing his lips together in thought and wondering if he should press on. Well, it was now or never, right? "So," he began slowly, regarding his best friend cautiously, "why did, you know...exactly how...with...you know...in Slytherin...Parkinson?" he managed.

It was a good thing Ron understood. Ron held up a hand to stop Harry from making a complete fool of himself "Harry, don't. I don't want to talk about it."

Harry made a rather indigent snort. "Ron, come off it. It's not that bad- you only got off with detentions. You know it could have been much, much worse."

Ron sighed enormously. "Yes, Harry, I know.... But honestly, it is that bad. You know we didn't just kiss and..."

"I know that, Ron. I could tell from the look on your face," Harry cut in, though it probably wasn't entirely wise, as Ron started to glare at him. "Well, you just got off with a detention, what are you so worried about?"

Ron screwed up his face as if he'd rather not talk about it, but finally sighed and gave in. He sighed wearily and looked up at Harry with a bleary expression, who looked back at him, blinking behind his glasses expectantly. "Harry, it was unprotected."

  
  


*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

  
  


Draco Malfoy had been moodily sulking through the corridors of the compartment, intimidating the younger students with his evil glares and biting remarks as often as possible. It was, in a way, his version of venting. This way, he could get out all of his frustrations without having to cry like some ninny or kill someone, even though he still felt the latter was rather appealing in many ways. Now, he had throughly insulted nearly everyone that had been in the corridors at least twice, and he was growing rather bored of it. Now, he felt like being alone. He needed time to think...Time to sort things out in his head...How has that mudblood pinned him to a tee anyway? He was now throughly pissed. He felt vulnerable. He did not cope well with that because, quite frankly, it rarely ever happened in his life. Bugger, how he hated that Granger.

He scowled, deciding to go back to the compartment he had been in before this whole row. Quite literally flinging younger students out of the way, he cleared a path down the corridor to the compartment. Once he reached the shiny red door, he impatiently turned the brass knob and quickly closed the door behind him. His eyes, out of pure habit, quickly absorbed all of his surroundings to make sure there were no intruders. However, he was slightly surprised when his eyes fell on a girl with an unruly mess of curly brown hair, her back facing him. He recognized her instantly.Granger, his mind cursed. 

He walked up to her slowly, cautiously, making sure not to awake her. As he came creeping up behind her, his thoughts grew more and more malicious. He was practically touching her now, and in order to see her face, he leaned over her carefully and peered. There, nestled up neatly to the deep red cushion, was the Gryffindor that had caused him so much trouble. Funny, though, because the way the dim lighting in the compartment was playing on her features, the way her rosy lips were slightly parted, the way her rich brown hair framed her face, she didn't look as hideous as he had remembered at all. In fact, he thought she almost looked...innocent.

Draco Malfoy licked his lips hungrily, craving what was going to come next. Craving for just a bit of that innocence to be corrupted by himself, he leaned forward, coming in very close to the oblivious, sleeping Hermione Granger. He was so close now, her curly brown hair was soft against his face, his mouth moving closer, the old glint in his silver eyes. Almost there now... He was taking his time, being excruciatingly careful as to not wake her. He looked over the side of her face, making sure her eyes weren't open...He didn't necessarily want her to know what he was going to do, wanting it to be a surprise. He took one last look at that innocent face, closed his eyes, open his lips slightly, and----

"WAKE UP, MUDBLOOD!!!" he screamed into her ear.

There. That fixed the looking-too-innocent problem.

It was all Hermione could do to keep her heart from jumping out of her chest. Her brown eyes snapped open, her throat emitted a short, surprised yelp, and she clamped a hand over her now-throbbing ear. She bolted up right, turning around to face the offender, who was now laughing whole-heartedly. Waking up from her fairly deep sleep, it took a few seconds for her to realize who it was. The silver-blonde hair, gray-coloured eyes, pale, smooth complexion....Draco Malfoy, Slytherin, Head Boy, she registered. Then, without hesitating, she took a step towards him, drew her arm back sharply, and punched him square in the eye.

Malfoy toppled over, both hands clutching his right eye, but not before letting out a painful gasp that caught in his throat. Hermione Granger walked up to his crouched position on the floor, her hands on her hips. "Malfoy, what are you playing at?" she barked, looking angrily down at him, who just stared blankly up at her, his hand still covering his eye. "I was sleeping, you know. It wasn't as if I had done anything to you. You had no right to do that! Explain yourself!" she demanded, stomping her foot for emphasis.

Malfoy smirked up at her. "Oh, come off it, Granger. I was just waking you up. In case you haven't noticed, we're nearing Hogwarts and the train's about to stop. No reason to hit me in the face, thank you very much."

Hermione glared down at him. "You're welcome," she snapped.

Draco scoffed and got up, straightening his robes. "No need to get in such a tizzy, mudblood. Can't have you getting to excited with me in the same compartment," he sneered suggestively.

"Oh, do grow up."

"In case you haven't noticed, mudblood, I have," he said calmly. He looked down at her then, and his eyes scanned every inch of her body. Hermione felt as though he was virtually stripping her with his eyes. Finally, he seemed to have reached some sort of satisfaction, because he smirked. "Obviously, you've got quite a way to go... Or are you just naturally disfigured?" he added.

Hermione promptly took the opportunity to slap him across the cheek, hard.

She had pushed it too far. Before her hand left his face, Draco Malfoy, out of reflexes bourne from years of Quidditch training, snatched up her wrist, twisted it painfully up behind her back, and pinned her against the wall. He quickly grabbed her other wrist and pinned it above her head. Using his torso, he leaned in on her, flattening her against the richly-hued walls to the point where she could no longer move. Hermione was rendered helpless. She stared up at him, fear creeping up into her deep brown eyes that reflected his face reluctantly. His silver eyes pierced her consciousness, and Hermione Granger was becoming increasingly aware of how very alone she was with a dangerous son of a relentless Death Eater. 

"I'm in no mood to deal with your antics today, you filthy little mudblood," he said in a voice that was dangerously low. He glared down at her, malice twitching on his face as he looked upon her in disgust. "You've been enough of a hindrance in my life thus far, and I do not need you to go and make it any worse. Do you understand, or was that too much for you to comprehend, Granger?"

Hermione was petrified. She was pinned against the wall by her worst enemy, who was significantly bigger and stronger than her, was the son of a Death Eater, loathed her, and looked positively mutinous. She gulped. Her mind was racing, eyes darting to the only door in the room, her mind screaming to find a way out.

Draco tightened his grip on her wrists and began to twist them roughly. He pushed her harder up against the wall. Hermione let out a howl of pain, her ribs crushing in on her, feeling like they were going to break, her wrists being wrung into angry, fiery rings by the demon before her. "Understand?" he asked again, smoothly, his voice still abnormally low and in a dangerous whisper. He twisted harder, and Hermione let out another howl.

"I-I understand!" she managed to gasp.

Draco Malfoy smirked at her then, and let go quickly, causing Hermione to sink to the floor, coughing, clutching her ribs and caressing her tortured wrists. Saying nothing, he left abruptly with a flourish of his death-black robes, Hermione sputtering to herself in the compartment.

Hermione was breathing erratically after such an encounter. She had once believed herself to be strong, physically speaking, but Malfoy... He was leagues ahead of her. She put a shaking hand to her ribs, cradling them, and another hand on a wall to help balance her as she stood up. Never had she felt so helpless, weak, leaning against a wall for support. 

Then, she realized what she was thinking, and a quote surfaced quickly into her mind: "No one can make you feel inferior without your consent." Hermione's brown eyes shot open as she felt her anger and hatred boil up inside her from deep within.

  
  


Draco's blonde head popped back into the compartment and he smirked. "Put yourself together, Granger. Train's about to arrive at Hogwarts. We have to make sure the prefects and students get off the train. Don't want anyone left behind, do we?"

She glared at him and bravely stood up.

  
  


*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Harry Potter just gaped at his misery-ridden best friend like a goldfish out of water. He didn't know what to say, what to do, what to think; so, he just stood there like some great idiot. Then, it hit him, finally sinking in. "Unprotected?" he said, his stomach dropping out.

Ron nodded miserably, his head, if possible, pressing harder into his hands.

"But why?" Harry asked, dumbfounded. "And why Parkinson?"

"Harry, I- I.....I dunno," he stammered nervously. "She was just sitting there, in that short pink-coloured skirt....The blonde hair...Her legs were uncrossed...." He shook his head angrily, his roughed-up red hair sticking up on ends. "I just...It...It was...like animal...whatsit?...animal magnetism."

Harry just stared."Why'd you do it unprotected?"

Ron shook his head again and averted his eyes to the floor. "Well," he began, sucking in his breath as if he were desperate, and in a away he was, "it was just the heat of the moment, I guess. She just came onto me, flung herself at me... You should've seen what she was doing, Harry... I couldn't help it.. I-I...." Ron let out the air in his lungs, defeated. "I just gave in."

Harry just stood there, stupidly. Then, a thought struck him. "Er....does Lavender know?"

Ron's blue eyes shot open quickly, slightly bulging out. It was as if realization had just punched him in the gut, hard. Ron doubled over, burying his freckled face in his hands yet again, emitting a frustrated, angry scream at himself. 

Harry took that as a rather blatant "No."

Ron's body began to shake horribly, then, and it occurred to Harry that Ron was either A) angry, or B) crying. Worried, he quickly bent down to Ron, who had his head on his knees. "Ron? Ron, are you okay? Is there anything I can do?" he asked, genuinely concerned.

Ron promptly screamed again, obviously furious with himself. His whole body had now turned the approximate colour of his flaming red hair, and he was positively glowing with rage. Harry was almost scared...He had never seen his best friend this mad before. Harry regarded Ron carefully with his bottle-green eyes. He watched as Ron's rib cage sharply contracted, and it took a split second to realize that he was crying. Ron finally leaned back, defeated, the hot tears silently falling down his freckled cheeks. He sniffed, ashamed of himself.

"Harry, I don't know what to do," he said miserably, looking suddenly at his best friend. He ran a shaking hand through his mass of now-untidy hair. "I love Lav, I really do... I just slipped up. I-I don't know what to do...I don't know how I'll tell her, you know? She's never done anything wrong..She's perfect, Harry, perfect to me...I don't know what came over me.... I don't think she'll ever forgive me," he said the last sentence with a bitter tone, and Harry automatically knew the bitter tone was toward himself; Harry knew that Ron would never forgive himself for what he had done. 

Ron let out one slow, miserable sigh.

Just then, the door banged open, and a very pretty witch with tendrils of golden-blonde hair stood in the doorframe, her winning smile shining brightly.

Ron grew pale in apprehension, his freckles, once lost in his angry redness, were now shown in stark comparison.

Lavender.

  
  


*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

  
  


Hermione followed Malfoy to the front compartments defiantly, her jaw clenched shut but her head held up bravely, her stride quick, determined, dutiful. Draco Malfoy, however, was easily strolling through the corridor as if it were a leisurely and pleasant walk; indeed, he seemed to positively glide through with the utmost grace. Of course, Hermione Granger did not know that this was not his arrogance shining through, but instead it was years and years of acquired skilled, conceived carefully under the disdainful cold, glaring stare of his father. Opting for what she figured to be true, she scowled at the back of his platinum-topped head. He must have sensed it, for in an impossibly quick blur of billowing black robes, he stopped, turned around and caught her glare, that quickly melted into surprise, before resigning back to a glare.

He smirked. "What, Granger? Can't get enough of my good looks?"

She snorted with contempt. "Hardly," she growled.

He flashed her a wicked quick grin and a raised eyebrow. "Suit yourself," he said smugly before turning back around and resuming his usual "arrogant" stride.

Hermione rolled her eyes and mumbled quite under her breath, "Tosser."

Draco looked back over his shoulder. "I heard that," he snapped.

Hermione glared at him defiantly. "I said it out loud, didn't I?"

He almost laughed, but though better of it. So, the little mudblood has a bit of a spark in her, eh? Good. This is going to be one hell of a ride he thought amusedly.

It wasn't long before they reached the first two compartments on the train that contained the prefects. Draco, not being one to hesitate on anything, bulged through the door loudly, scaring the unsuspecting prefects playing a quick game of Exploding Snap. One prefect, a younger boy from Ravenclaw, apparently forgot his turn upon their arrival. BANG! It had exploded, and there was now a thin layer of smoke that hung in the room. 

Draco glared down disapprovingly at the prefects before him as Hermione took her turn to glared up at the Head Boy. "Honestly, Malfoy, there's no need to be rude!"she barked furiously. She did not have a full view of his face, but she could see from where she was standing the beginnings of a very blue and purple bruise forming around his eye from where she had punched him not to long ago. She smirked with satisfaction.

He turned to her and glared, taking her aback from her observation. "Then shut your mouth," he hissed.

The prefects all exchanged nervous glances at one another. To them, the two looked positively murderous, and they where all quick to notice that each of them had their hands clutched strongly around their wands, and Hermione Granger's knuckles were turning white. Reluctantly, she turned her head sharply to the prefects, breaking the glaring contest between the Slytherin and herself.

At the sight of the younger students before her, her gaze softened; Draco, however, kept his dangerously silver eyes locked on her as she began to speak. "As you know, we are to ensure that all students on this train get off once we arrive at Hogwarts and that the first years make it safely into their boats with as few setbacks as possible," she stated plainly, but with a slight smile on her face. "After this is accomplished, we are to report to the staff room where we receive passwords to the dormitories and prefect bathrooms for this year. Is that all clear?" 

Once they had all nodded, Hermione smiled, satisfied, and began issuing duties to the prefects. "Right then. You, Terry," she said, motioning to a scrawny, pale Ravenclaw boy, "You take the first section of compartments. Make sure everyone gets off the train. Don't forget to double-check the compartments." He nodded and stepped out of the compartment, going down the corridor to take his position before the train began to reach its destination.

"Ginny," she said, smiling down at her good friend and the youngest Weasely, "you take the second section." Ginny nodded and smiled, filing out behind Terry.

"Francis, you take the third section." The younger Hufflepuff smiled and followed suit.

Hermione turned to the Slytherin prefect, who was sitting moodily in the corner, arms crossed stubbornly against his chest, his dark hair falling wildly on his forehead, glaring with utmost hatred at the newly-appointed Head Girl. Hermione glared back, matching his loathing and slightly surpassing it. She opened her mouth, no doubt a harsh tone and words to follow, before Draco Malfoy abruptly cut her off.

"Sarcadre," he shot out, issuing the younger Slytherin by his surname, his silver eyes glinting dangerously. Sarcadre quickly broke his stare from the Gryffindor and sharply looked at Draco, apprehension dawning on his face. Hermione could've sworn that she saw fear flicker slightly across the dark-haired boy's face. "Fourth section, now!" Malfoy demanded, and the other Slytherin jumped up quickly and hurried out of the compartment, averting his gaze from Draco Malfoy on his way out.

Hermione looked up at him, aghast. "Y-you didn't have to be so mean about it!"she stammered, taken aback. She was used to his harshness towards herself and fellow Gryffindors, but she had never imagined that he was this sharp with his fellow Slytherins.

Draco smirked down at her confused face. "That's Barron Sarcadre," he said simply, as if commenting on the weather. "He'll answer to know mudblood, Head Girl or not. He only follows orders of those socially higher than himself," he said pompously, "like me."

Hermione was ablaze at the blatant display of prejudice, and was about to give the infamous Draco Malfoy a good piece of her mind before he cut her off, again.

"That's just the way he is, Granger. He's not about to change. You saw just now exactly how stubborn he is, even over the slightest issues," he said knowingly, looking bored. "Now, come on. We've got to get at our stations," he said, quickly stepping out of the compartment and heading down the corridor, leaving Hermione Granger to herself in the compartment. She let out a quick exasperated scream to herself at Malfoy's insolence before chasing out after him.

  
  


*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Lavender Brown stood in the doorway, positively glowing with affection and love for her freckled boyfriend before her, who was returning her adoring gaze with a miserable stare of apprehension, his complexion paling more rapidly by the second.

Harry Potter was growing increasingly uncomfortable in this situation. He looked from Ron to Lavender and back to Ron again. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Er...well, I'll leave you two alone, then," he said awkwardly. He quickly turned and walked out the doorframe, passing Lavender, who apparently thought that this motion was to give her and Ron time to, er, physically make up for time lost, as she quickly blushed and whispered a quick thanks to Harry as he left. 

As soon as he was out of the door, Lavender eagerly shut it behind him, and Harry took his queue to walk as fast as possible away from the compartment, not wanting to be near it when the news broke. As he was leaving, he heard mumbling voices issuing from the compartment. Soon, the mumbling turned into a low roar, and it wasn't long before a long, piercing scream of pain met his ears. Harry winced and quickened his pace. Behind him, a brilliant red compartment door with the shiny brass number twenty-three nailed onto the front of it burst open, and the sound of the fight increased significantly with the barrier of the door now out of the way. One throughly upset Lavender Brown was now out in the corridor, tears streaming down her betrayed face, and her screams at her significant other were now bouncing off the narrow walls. Other doors of the corridor began to open, curious head popping out to see what was going on. They were met with Lavender's apparent rage. Harry could no longer move; he stood dumbly in the hallway, the screams filling his ears angrily.

"RONALD WEASELY, HOW COULD YOU?!"she shrieked, utterly oblivious to the stares she was receiving. "AFTER TWO YEARS! I'D NEVER, IN ALL MY LIFE-- WITH A SLYTHERIN! WHAT WHERE YOU THINKING! HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME, TO US?!"she bellowed furiously, tears hotly flowing down her beautiful face.

Harry feared the worst....He knew what was going to happen, but with his feet rooted in place, his eyes squeezed impossibly tight, his jaw clenched, he was praying beyond all reason that Ron would not lose his temper. He prayed for his friend to keep his mouth shut, to not let his anger and frustration at himself escape past his mouth and pour out onto and already-upset Lavender Brown.

"WELL, I COULDN'T HELP IT! MAYBE IF YOU WORE THOSE SHORT PINK SKIRT THINGS, THEN I WOULD FUCK YOU INSTEAD!!!"he yelled back at her.

Harry's eyes snapped open and he turned to look at the scene. Too late. It had come out horribly, horribly wrong. However, before Ron could take it back, Lavender began twisting furiously at a small gold ring that was around her finger. Harry cringed. It was the promise ring Ron had given to Lavender last year, when he swore his undying love to her and promised that as soon as he graduated and had a decent-paying job, he would buy her a real engagement ring and marry her. Harry remembered how thrilled Lavender had been to receive it, how she had thrown her arms around Ron and hugged him, planting kisses all over his face as the rest of the Gryffindors in the common room cheered them on....And now, now that ring was promptly being thrown back at the man she loved in righteous fury, hitting him squarely on the forehead. "I loved you, Ron, I really did," Harry heard her whisper painfully, "but I guess I just wasn't enough for you," she choked. She turned sharply and broke into a run, bristling past Harry as she furiously blinked at her tears, her anguished sobs resonating against the stark, cold walls of the corridor.

Ron slowly walked out of the compartment, his face unbelievably red, his blue eyes welled up. A few tears streaked down his face as he stared painfully after the woman he was still madly in love with. Harry's heart broke as he watched his best friend in agony as Ron's quick, sharp scream of agony reverberated in the corridor. Suddenly, Ron was thrashing at the wall, screaming, kicking, punching at it until he finally sank to his knees, his face pressed deeply into his hands, muttering Lavender's name over and over, wishing her to still be his, for their broken relationship to be healed as the train came to a slow halt.

  
  
  
  
  
  


*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

DISCLAIMER: All JK's save the plot (which has much developing to do). Obviously. I mean, this is FAN fiction, isn't it?

Author's Note: Oh, dear. I've created quite a mess, haven't I? I feel bad for the characters now that they are at my will..... If I didn't know what was going to happen later, I would be furious with myself for putting everyone through this misery. So sorry. Anywho, what did you all think of this chapter? Was it any good? I'm afraid I might have duffed this one up a bit... Hope I haven't failed too miserably. Sorry about getting this out so late, but I've been so very busy with my artwork lately that I've simply not had the time. The next chapter is going to be tremendously long... I've started on it, and already it's longer than this one... Hope you don't mind too much. Please, please, pretty, pretty please review! You have no idea how excited I get when I receive a review... I rush to my email every day, waiting for it....When I see that I have one, I start grinning like some great idiot as if I've got the answer to the meaning of life or something equivalent...Then I start reading it. That's where the worst part comes, see, I start talking to myself, making comments saying how much I agree or disagree, laugh at the choice commentary, cry, all that rubbish. It's really quite ridiculous, mind you, but it makes me happy, truly. Right, then. To show my gratitude for those wonderful reviews, here it goes, at the end of every chapter:

THE THANK YOU'S:

starbright: To my very first reviewer under this pen name! Thank you for taking the time to review, as you said you usually don't. Glad that I've got you fascinated, and, obviously, I am continuing the story. As for my other works, you can check my old pseudonym, Hype, which still has my other works available for reading. Enjoy!

Aspiring Autumn: Glad that you do.

galena: Yes, I can email you updates, but I must warn you that I am rather sporadic.

pampers: Thank you ever so much!

lily: Thanks! Hopefully, you haven't waited too long?

Crestomanchi: Thank you for your input. As for Mrs. Malfoy's usage of the word "motherfucker," that may be true, but remember that not all things said in life are meant to be taken so literally...At least, in this case, I certainly hope not!:)

Blue Angel: I've got you on your toes, have I? *grins evilly*

Alexia: Happy that you enjoy my story thus far; hopefully, I can write it fast enough to keep you satisfied, eh?

JennFelton: Yes, I do chose rather colourful words, don't I? All for the sake of imagery and dialect, of course...I'm updating as quickly as I can.

Bambi: I QUITE agree with you in particular. Not as much applying to my fiction, but to several of my favorites, it always seems that the good, promising stories miss out on ample reviews. It didn't used to be that way here, but the decline in taste of writing us evident amongst many of our readers today. Anywho, thank you very much for the wonderful compliment on my writing, as it is much appreciated. As for Draco staying in character, I've worked very hard on it. Not only is he a wonderful character to discover, but he is also one of the most potential characters when writing fictions, as not an entire lot is known about him personally. I do intend to keep him in his original prat-form. As for Draco and Hermione's rather harsh home lives, I must say that yes, I did do that to portray the dysfunctional situation, but it will not remain as harsh. With Hermione's parents I have a virtually blank canvas to work with. They will develop further in later chapters in which their presence and influence is greatly needed. As for the intense cursing, sorry, but it is staying. Sometimes it takes an extra few biting words to fit the entire feeling in place. As for Ron and Pansy, their stories will develop (obviously), may it be good or bad. I'm keeping my lips sealed on that one. Things will later be revealed that will be vital to the story, it's just that the first few chapters are to set characters, setting, mood, and tone before jumping to the plot, so do bear with me. Again, thank you for your wonderful review! Kudos!:)

Blanche Dubois: Thank you! I don't think I'm that great of a writer, though... Hopefully you're not reading this just because it's rated "R", though?...

DarkAngelB: Yes, it's shaping out to be a rather lovely year, isn't it? Glad I made you laugh....Hopefully, it was in a good way! ^_^

ravenclaw-gal: Oh, you haven't the slightest of just how interesting this year is going to be, yet......

  
  


Right, then. Many thanks to my wonderful reviewers!!!!! Honestly, you guys just make my day!

  
  
  
  


Hey, want to make my day again?

  
  


Please review.

  
  
  
  


Please?

  
  
  
  


Pretty please?

  
  
  
  


Pretty, pretty please?

  
  
  
  


Pretty, pretty, pretty please?

  
  
  
  


Pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty please?

  
  
  
  


That's a lot of pretty's. How about a.... Por favor?

  
  
  
  
  
  


If I knew how to say it in French, I would.

  
  
  
  
  
  


I really would.

  
  
  
  


Because your reviews mean that much to me.

  
  
  
  


That, and I am desperate for feedback.

  
  
  
  


Really desperate.

  
  
  
  


Really, really desperate.....

  
  
  
  


Obviously.

  
  


So please?

  
  
  
  


I'll take constructive criticism.

  
  
  
  
  
  


I will.

  
  
  
  
  
  


No, really, I will.

  
  
  
  


I'll take flames, too...

  
  
  
  


But bear in mind that I humiliate flamers if they leave a very stupid flame that does not show off their intellect.

  
  


Because I want them to know how much I appreciate their words...

  
  
  
  


And if it's a flame, I'll tell them just how much appreciation they get when they kiss my ass.

  
  
  
  


Because flames are useless to all writers.

  
  
  
  


So, what are you? Chicken?

  
  
  
  


Are you a not reviewing? Wow, you're such a chicken.

  
  
  
  


Honestly, now, what've you got to hide?

  
  
  
  
  
  


Some deep, dark secret that can be completely excluded in a simple review?

  
  
  
  


Uh-huh. That's what I thought. Chicken.

  
  
  
  
  
  


SO DON'T BE A CHICKEN, BE A MAN (OR WOMAN!!!) AND REVIEW!!! (Right then. I'm quite done now, thank you.)


	3. Rain

Broken

By Stellar

2003

*Chapter Three: Rain*

  
  


The train came to a halt, so did some very vehement and furious thoughts about one particular Slytherin that kept popping into Hermione Granger's mind. They had taken their positions in the front of the train, patiently awaiting the time in which they would file off the gleaming red steam engine to begin their first major duties as the Head Boy and Girl. Indeed, after several infuriating encounters with one impossible Draco Malfoy, it was enough to make Hermione resort to glaring at him at every moment possible, trying to subliminally send her messages of hate to the insufferable git that she was supposed to spend the next year of her life rooming with. The mere thought of the ominous year ahead of her with one Draco Malfoy sent Hermione into waves of hatred, fury, and indigent self-pitying. But, she thought, brushing a stray strand of bushy, curly brown hair from her face, there was no time for that. She was about to start her first true duty as Head Girl of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She had worked ridiculously hard to get to where she was, and she was not about to screw up on her first assignment of her honourable position owing to being distracted by thoughts of murdering Draco Malfoy, as pleasant as it may be. No, certainly not. 

As Hermione huffed and threw obvious glares in his direction as they waited for the train to come to a complete stop, Draco Malfoy regarded Granger with a very pale, very blank face, just as he had been so trained to do. Show no emotion, wasn't that how it went? Draco almost snorted. Of course that was the way it went. He was a Malfoy, and....proud of it? He wasn't entirely sure anymore. Thoughts idle, he stared absently at Granger. After all, there was nothing better to do until the train stopped. It's not like she was as hideous as she had been in third year anymore.

He must have had a strange look on his face, for she glared at him, her brown eyes in absolute fury, like they normally were when she looked at him. "What?" she snapped, crossing her arms moodily.

He smirked. He loved pissing her off. "Nothing."

"You're such a prick, Malfoy," she huffed.

"Why, thank you, Granger," he said coolly, smiling as pleasantly as possible at her. She had a bit of a fight to her, that one. He remembered when she had slapped him in his third year. Brave, really, like the rest of her little friends... Sometimes they were brave to the point of being stupid. Rush in and save the day, Potter. Think not of your own hide. he mocked in his head. Gryffindors.... Always the first to leap into the line of danger and always the ones who needed the most rescuing.

Hermione rolled her eyes. She should have expected it. Of course there was no decency left in him; come to think of it, she was never sure that he had any decency to begin with. He always did hate her; that much would never change. 

If Granger could read his mind as he leaned casually against the door of which they would soon be departing through, she would have surprisingly found that Draco Malfoy was actually thinking about her. No, not with the usual disdain for her exceedingly poor bloodlines, or for her bushy hair, or for the fact that she was always situated around those annoying Gryffindor favourites; but rather, his mind was taking her in distantly, completely out of touch from his conscious self. Hermione Granger, still with her bushy brown hair that curled very slightly into ringlets, still with her pallid skin colour, still with those dark brown eyes, and, as he was quick to notice, still with a book. Smirking, he eyed the book clutched tightly in her hands in all curiousity, wondering what the subject was. It was fairly small, leather-bound, like so many books, and was remarkably tattered... Draco's silver eyes brushed over the spine of the book, making to read it, and was slightly surprised at what the words formed in a delicate silver text: Hermione A. Granger. So, a diary, is it? he thought, in all honesty amused at the prospect that there was a slightly less studious aspect about the girl in front of him. Wonder what she's got written in that thing? A flash of two boys came quickly to him: one tall, skinny, freckled, and with trademark red hair, the other with a messy black mop atop his head, round, black-framed glasses, and a legendary lightening bolt shaped scar. Of course, she would write about them. he scowled, though to no one in particular.

His roaming thoughts shifted around when the Hogwarts Express finally stopped. He quickly stepped out of his amusement and straightened himself properly before reaching out a strong, pale hand to grasp the doorknob with ease, opening the door, and graciously stepping out to begin his first duty as Head Boy. Hermione Granger followed him, albeit she was still glaring at the back of his white-blonde head. He didn't seem to notice. 

  
  


*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

  
  


Ginny Weasely, who was approaching the section of the train that was her post, froze in her place as a sobbing Lavender Brown streaked down the corridor, her blonde ringlets trailing behind her. Well, that certainly wasn't normal. She perked up an eyebrow, thinking to herself. Really, Lavender had been very happy, overly so, ever since she and Ron had started dating. Then, slowly, she turned to look down the corridor and the puzzle pieces slowly came together in her mind.

Harry Potter was looking absolutely hopeless, backed up against the wall of the narrow hallway, his concerned green eyes focused on a heaving figure at the floor. As Ginny turned her head to look at the sobbing figure on the floor, the colour drained from her face. There, crumpled on the floor and leaning against a wall that offered no comfort, was Ronald Weasely, her brother, crying miserably, clutching a thin, delicate gold ring. Lavender's ring.

Oh, what had he done?

Ginny watched apprehensively as Harry crossed the narrow, carpeted walkway and tried to put a comforting, sympathetic arm around his best friend's shoulders. Suddenly, Ron let out an angry, anguished cry as he turned and drew up his strong, thick arm and hit Harry square in the chest, sending his best friend reeling over backwards and crashing into the hard wall behind him. Combined with both the force of Ron's blow and the final stop of the train, Harry Potter landed on the floor with a heavy thud, his glasses knocked askew on his chiseled face. Harry was in shock for a few seconds, catching his breath, before Ginny saw his brilliant green eyes turn cold and angry. Harry Potter drew himself up and glared down at Ron, who was still a sobbing wretch, dusted off his robes furiously, turned on his heel, and stalked past Ginny. She winced.

This was not good.

However, after living with Ron her entire life, Ginny knew better than to approach him when he was this upset. He was irrational when he was mad, scared, most of the time, really; he became careless in the face of his powerful emotions and began reacting without thinking. This was one of those times. Once she realized that the train had stopped, Ginny gave one last sad look at her older brother before jolting to do her duties. She would talk to him about it later.

  
  


*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

  
  


Draco looked on in a rather bored manner over the sea of Hogwarts students that were pouring out of the train and into the cold, unrelenting rain as he signaled them on towards the carriages. It was a rather depressing, really, to see so many young people whose families and friends had perished in the last two years as the war between good an evil had begun, filing out fairly silently into the cold, drenching rain that was pounding down mercilessly from a gray, unforgiving sky.

He looked up at the sky slowly to muse to himself, something he did quite often on days like this. It was eerie, he thought, how it seemed that the sky served as a symbol of the evil that had been reigning down on the wizarding world for the last two years, and the wizards and witches below it marched drearily on, silent in their slow overtaking, oppressed beyond natural belief by fear, save for a select few. Draco regarded the thought for a second before shrugging it off. It didn't matter to him. He was on the winning side, either way he looked at it. Currently, the son of a Death Eater most loyal to the Dark Lord, he would be rewarded beyond his dreams if the Dark Lord won. If not, he had enough money and honour left in his name that no one would bother him, and if they choose to, he could play off his father, saying that he lived a very oppressed childhood and his father forced him to be loyal to the Dark Lord, all out of the hope that someday his cruel father would love him. The thought of it stung him harshly, for it was all true, especially the last part, and he knew it. He had admitted it to himself several times now. Well, maybe it did matter, a little bit. Maybe.

He turned his face upward for a moment, the drops of rain slickly sliding down his pale, pointed features, drenching his white-blonde hair, trailing down in small, nearly invisible but still significant trails onto his black robes. It had been raining on Draco Malfoy for years. He closed his silver-gray eyes, for they reflected the sky that he did not want to be a part of. He did not move. He stood there, pale, drenched, eyes lightly closed, with tones of gray playing on his features, mimicking the cruel sky above. For the first time in seventeen long years, he let his guard down. For the first time in seventeen long years, he let the weight of his life bear down on him. Scenes of his childhood flashed behind his closed eyelids... 

  
  
  
  


Mummy, playing with him in their garden, laughing as he tried to curse toads.

Sitting on Daddy's knee as he read The Daily Prophet. He peered over the edge of the paper, trying to eye it importantly like his father, even though he was only three and couldn't yet read.

Mummy sitting on his bed, smiling and laughing as she read stories to her son.

Daddy pacing the drawing room, lecturing him on the difference between purebloods and muggle-borns. Correction, mudbloods.

Daddy, kissing his forehead for the only time in his entire life, the day he first called a muggle-born a mudblood to their face, making them cry. He was only five.

Playing in the hallway outside Daddy's room, finally managing to hex a spider so that it danced with all eight legs. So proud, he practically waltzed into his daddy's room to show him his handiwork. Daddy, hunched over by a fire talking to someone, clutching his left forearm, an ugly scar of a skull and snake. Daddy, screaming at him to get out. Daddy, hitting him on his head, hard. That was the day Daddy became Father.

Mummy, cleaning his cuts formally, not speaking, her lips pursed in a thin line.

Father, glaring down at him when asked for a hug after Mummy yelled at him for interrupting her. 

Father, saying he was weak. 

Father, saying he was useless. 

Father, saying he was a waste to the family name.

Mummy, agreeing with him.

Father, hitting him, telling him to live up to his name, his duty, you worthless slime, what's wrong with you.

Mother, scolding at him for being inconsiderate towards Father.

Mother, "We love you when you're perfect."

Not perfect. You are not perfect. They don't love you. You are not perfect. 

Curled up on the windowsill, looking at the rain. Blinking absently, wishing the rain were tears running down his cheeks.

Don't cry. You are weak. You are useless. You are a waste of the family name. Depression. Don't cry. Not crying. Show no emotion, show no emotion, show no emotion....

God, it had been raining for so long.

  
  


Some fifteen feet away from him, Hermione Granger channeled the students above first year to the carriages as the new students followed the enormous figure of Rubeus Hagrid. She was straining on her toes to look over the mass of students for Harry and Ron, which wasn't working very well. While Harry and Ron had grown considerably, she had remained fairly short, much to her dismay. Finally, just when she was about to give up, she spotted Harry, who was, she was surprised to see, without Ron and with a very emotionless face. He must have spotted her, though, for his features brightened and his eyes lit up in recognition quickly as he glanced in her direction. He started calmly weaving around students to make his way to her.

"Harry!" she called out, though quite unnecessarily. He was only ten feet from her now, looking at her dead on.

Finally, he had made his way to her and smiled in her presence. Hermione immediately flung her arms around her best friend, nearly knocking him off balance. He gratefully hugged her back. When they broke apart, Harry smiled down at her. "Feeling better, are we?"he asked, ruffling her hair affectionately, even though it was creating even more knots in her bushy hair. He seemed unusually happy this term, having come back from a good time at the Burrow.

She grinned and nodded. "I'm not going to let Malfoy get to me this year," she said decisively, but she wasn't so sure that would be the case. He had a way of crawling under her skin sometimes. She shrugged it off. "How's Ron?"

Harry eyes darkened. "Horrible," he said earnestly. "Lavender found out."

Hermione's eyes immediately widened. "Lavender! Oh, I had forgotten!" she said, reality dawning on her features.

Harry nodded, suddenly looking shifty. Students began walking around him, and Hermione tried her best to usher them on during the conversation. Harry seemed to be recalling the previous events in his mind, shuddering every so often as he gave Hermione a synopsis of what had occurred when Lavender Brown had arrived to the compartment. "It was awful," he concluded. "Ron's a mess, as is Lavender. She broke it off. Ron's furious with himself."

Hermione wanted to hug Ron, but as he was not present, she couldn't. "Where's Ron now?"

Harry shrugged. "Last I saw he was still on the train. He was crying, hitting the wall...." he paused before looking Hermione in the eye. "He hit me."

Hermione's hand predictably flew to her mouth as she gasped, "Why? What happened?"

Harry ran a hand through his wet, messy black hair. "I dunno.... He was just crouched on the ground crying. I tried to comfort him, put my arm around him like I do when you cry... He just hit me in the chest, flung me off of him. You know how he gets when he's upset. Irrational and all..." he trailed off.

Hermione nodded understandingly. "Well, it doesn't stop the fact that I'm going to have a talk to him tonight. He might be upset and all, but he's got no right to hit you, Harry. He needs to learn how to control himself."

Harry nodded. "Ginny probably will talk to him too. She saw some of it happen, but I don't know how much of it," he said.

There was an awkward pause. Harry wasn't sure if he should tell Hermione what Ron had told him. He wasn't sure what Hermione would do if she knew it was unprotected... She was mad enough that he had sex with Pansy, was terrified enough that he had cheated on Lavender, but Harry thought it should be best left to Ron's discretion as to who should know and when. He changed the subject. "So, Head Girl this year, eh?" he smiled.

Hermione beamed up at him. "Yeah. I was so surprised when I got the letter in the post....I just couldn't-"

Harry punched her arm affectionately. "C`mon, now, you must've expected it. You've been at the top of our entire class since you first stepped foot in Hogwarts!" he teased.

"But really, I didn't-"

"Liar," he challenged jokingly.

"Well, maybe..Maybe just a little bit," she laughed.

Harry crossed his arms jovially, and raised his eyebrows disbelievingly.

A small smile formed on her lips. "Well, ok, I knew..."

Harry merely grinned in triumph. "Told you so," he said knowingly. "Hey, were's the ferret? Isn't he Head Boy?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yes, unfortunately he is. He's supposed to be helping me move everyone into the carriages, but I haven't seen him since we stepped off the train," she said. "Useless git," she added for emphasis, crossing her arms. She began to look for him, quite hopelessly, as she was looking in the wrong direction.

"There he is," said Harry, pointing to a spot in the crowd behind her.

Hermione whipped around, her brown, bushy hair that was even more untamable in the rain flinging out behind her, her mouth opening to yell at her nemesis, scolding him for not attempting to control the outpour of students eagerly awaiting to get in the carriages and out of the rain. but the sight before her eyes stopped her abruptly. There stood Draco Malfoy standing out in stark comparison to the bleak sea of Hogwarts students. Only, this was not the Malfoy she knew. He stood still, almost calmly, rain gliding silently down his every feature, his eyes closed, relaxed. There was no trace of prejudice, no trace of biting insults, no trace of arrogance, no trace of money, no trace of hatred, nothing more than a pained expression on his pale features. He seemed so forlorn, so helpless, so burdened with life...

He seemed so.... vulnerable.

Rain was now pouring down Hermione's unruly mane of tangled, bushy brown hair, but she didn't even notice. She was in a kind of trance, staring at this man who seemed, in so many ways now, very much still a boy. Admitted, a boy with many burdens in life, many regrets, one who had been forced from an early age to be a man. It struck Hermione now that, in all possibility, that Malfoy did not have much of a childhood to reminisce on under the province of his cruel, hate-ridden father. Forgetting that Harry was standing next to her, tears sprung in her eyes, why, she was not sure, but she did not blink them back. Two tears slid shamelessly down her slightly flushed and already-wet cheeks. For the first time in her life, she felt sorry for him.

She stood in the rain, Harry Potter next to her, and all she could think about was her enemy, Draco Malfoy. She was being ridiculous. Ridiculous, right? Right then. She practically marched up to Malfoy in determination, Harry automatically trailing behind her for protection.

"Malfoy, get a move on. We've got a job to do, you know," she barked much more harshly than she meant. 

He didn't open his eyes. He was rooted in place, lost in his thought, emotions he had never allowed himself to feel swelling inside him.

Hermione reached out a hand and laid it on his shoulder, ready to shake him back to their surroundings.

Draco's eyes immediately snapped open, silver eyes glinting angrily at her. "Get your filthy hand off me, mudblood!" he screamed.

Hermione jumped, taken back by his sudden change of emotion and appearance. She retreated her hand quickly

Harry immediately stepped forward, wasting no time. "Don't call her that! She didn't do anything to you," he snapped, hovering next to his best friend possessively.

"What, Potter? Come to save the day again? She's quite old enough to defend herself now, you know, or are you just playing the brave boyfriend act again?" he sneered, looking down at Harry a solid four inches in absolute disdain. "Ta, ta, Granger. I'll be seeing you later. Quite looking forward to it," he said snidely, slipping in a rather obvious innuendo just to piss the great Harry Potter off as he turned sharply on his expensive Italian leather heel and stalk off, bellowing for all students who were not first years to follow him. She was a bit shaken at his aggressiveness, but really, she knew that she shouldn't be. Malfoy had always been like that. At least, that was what she tried to convince herself.

Harry glared at the retreating Malfoy's back for a few solid seconds before turning back to Hermione, his eyes immediately filling with concern. "He's such a prat. Don't pay him any attention, all right?" he said, searching Hermione's fairly pale face for an answer.

She nodded numbly.

Harry's eyebrows knitted together. "You okay, 'Mione?" he asked, putting his hands on her shoulders, which were shaking from the cold, biting air.

Hermione smiled. He was so wonderful. So concerned for her own being that he didn't even think of his own, or at least not often. That was what made Harry Potter great in her eyes. The lack of ego. The genuine caring. Despite the papers buzzing with untrue rumors, despite the fact that many in the wizard world despised him, despite girls falling over him, despite his burdens in life-- he was still human. She smiled up at him. "Yes. Yes, I'm fine, Harry. Thank you."

He smiled back. "Good. Now, let's get these people in their carriages, shall we?"

Some twenty feet ahead of the two friends stood Draco Malfoy, menacing as ever, roughly shouting at students to follow him to the carriages, and taking the time to insult those whom he noticed were not paying attention to him. While his mouth was harshly running a mile a minute, his thoughts were completely separate from his actions. The emotion that had been building up inside of Draco Malfoy as he let his thoughts linger in his mind was becoming too powerful for him to think about, to handle, to control, and he had let it out on Granger. He shouldn't care, he really shouldn't, but he did. He had let a part of it out, he had let part of himself out. He felt uncharacteristically vulnerable. After years of hidden suffering, he was beginning to break down, he was beginning to turn into his father. He was beginning to become hate. And Granger had a glimpse of it, what he had been so careful to hide, his emotions, his pain, a whole lifetime of suffering. It's raining. It's still raining. With great effort, he pushed it out of his mind as students began to follow him to the carriages. He strode on with quick, powerful strides, keeping his head higher than mudblood Granger's in as much dignity as he could muster, his Head Boy badge gleaming blearily, his overbearing thoughts pushed out of sight, his back straight with as much pride as he could humanly allow with a broken boy crying inside of him. It was still raining, but no one but him could tell. He was a Malfoy. His father would have been proud.

  
  
  
  


*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

  
  


Parvati Patil was officially pissed off. She sat rigidly in her carriage, her dark brown hair in a neat plait, make-up in perfect place, anger steadily boiling up inside her as she listened to the miserable sobs that echoed around the circular carriage. The sound was coming from her best friend, Lavender Brown, who had her pretty blonde head on Parvati's shoulder as she cried, and in the process, further drenching the side of Parvati's school robes. Neville Longbottom sat across from them, somewhat nervous, wringing his hands idly. It was obvious that he was uncomfortable in the presence of the two of them, especially since one was crying and one was obviously seething with anger. 

Parvati, noticing this, tried to smile at him apologetically, sorry troubling him, but it flittered across her face as a sort of angry grimace, for Neville whimpered and flattened himself up against the white wall of the carriage, drawing back as much as possible, and started petting his pet toad, Trevor, a bit too quickly in his nervousness. Since the end of their fifth year, when Neville and some fellow Gryffindors had a row with a deal of fiercely loyal and vicious Death Eaters, Neville had become a stronger person, more determined and brave than he had before. However, in the face of two pretty girls, he was rendered helpless.

Neville, much to his dismay, was quite literally thrown in the carriage by Draco Malfoy, who seemed to be in a particularly bad mood today. Neville had hoped to be in a compartment with Ron, Harry, Hermione, or even Luna Lovegood. He didn't chose to be with the two girls, as nice as they could be, he just felt uncomfortable around them. Parvati felt a fleeting pang of pity for him, but her anger soon returned, and she was imagining doing several very violent things to one Ronald Weasely.

Well, this is it, she decided. This is the end of Ron Weasely. How dare he do this to Lavender? He had promised to marry her! She had worn his ring! And he cheated on her for....that...that....that Slytherin THING?! Parvati huffed to herself. What an ass.

She focused on the crying heap that was Lavender. "Lav, Lav.... It'll be all right. Ron will pay for what he has done," she said in what she thought was a comforting manor, patting her best friend on the head.

Lavender nearly choked on her own sobs. She suddenly looked up at Parvati, her watery eyes blinking wildly, causing even more tears to fall down her face, which held a disbelieving expression. "W-what? What? Parvati, no!"she exclaimed, horrified.

Neville whimpered from his feeble position against the wall, imagining what the girl had in store for his good friend, Ron; also, he was now intrigued as to what Ron had done. Unbeknownst to Neville, who had been in one of the first few compartments playing a game of wizard's chess with Justin Finch-Fletchly and Colin and Dennis Creev, Ron and Lavender had indeed severed ties, and Neville was left oblivious to it. Now, braving to lean slightly forward, he listened to Parvati and Lavender talk in whispers, but keeping his eyes locked on his toad as he petted the slick skin.

Parvati looked down at Lavender, who was still curled against her shoulder, and said, "Why not? He should pay for what he's done. He cheated on you, Lavender, with a Slytherin, remember? He deserves it," she whispered harshly.

"But...." Lavender began, unsure of what to say. Her eyebrows knitted as she tried to find the best possible wording. Finally, she decided on: "Parvati, even though Ron did all of those horrible things, I don't want you to do anything bad. Yes, he did let me down, but I think that he felt very guilty about it, honestly. Knowing Ron, his guilt will be more than enough punishment. Please don't do anything to him," she said, her voice wavering through her tears. She drew in a shaky breath and looked her best friend right in the eyes. "I still love him, Par, I really do."

Parvati Patil eyed the blonde sternly, trying to make up her mind between wringing Ron's neck, cursing him, or torturing him; however, she did not enlighten Lavender upon her thoughts. Instead, making up her mind, she let a soft, deceiving smile play on her features. "I'll try not to, Lavender."

"Promise?" Lavender pleaded.

Parvati nodded quickly before turning her head to look out the window and across the cold, dark grey terrain. It was nearly nightfall now. Lavender shuffled beside her, pulling Witch Weekly out of a fashionable purse before flipping idly through the pages. It was silent. Neville kept to himself, keeping his eyes fixed on his toad, which he was still petting rigorously. Now, this wasn't his normal thing, but in this case, in the case of one of his very good friends, he had to tell.

Parvati, wishing to change the subject in Lavender's mind, crossed her arms angrily. "What the hell is taking so long? The carriages haven't moved!"

Lavender's eyebrows knitted together. "You're right. We haven't moved. What's going on?"

  
  
  
  


*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

  
  


Unknown to her, Lavender's lost love was the source of the hold up with the carriages. Ron Weasely sat in a carriage, quite alone, looking sullenly out of the window, idly watching the dark clouds swirl angrily across the sky, looking like some terrible doom looming over the first years that were crossing the lake in their little rowboats. Having forced everyone out that Draco Malfoy had practically thrown into his carriage, he was, as he wanted to be, alone. Of course, Malfoy had put up quite a fight, yelling and threatening him when he refused to have anyone share the carriage with him. He demanded that he be left alone, so Malfoy had taken to literally picking up students, throwing them in the carriage, slamming the door shut, and instantly putting his back up against it to prevent Weasely from opening the door and pushing the poor students out. While doing this, Malfoy shouted through the door at Ron.

"Weasely! This is no time to fuck around! We're running out of carriages, and yours is the only one left that has room!" he had screamed.

Ron had totally ignored Malfoy's insistence. Instead, he had opened the window and ushered the students out, opposite from where Malfoy was angrily barring the door. Once Malfoy had figured this out, he had opened the door, himself dripping wet with the cold rain outside, a look of absolute fury painted on his face. "Fine, Weasel," he spat, glaring. "I will take this matter to McGonagall, you can count on it. Losing points for your house on the first day never gets back the girlfriend who left you, Weasely." He slammed the carriage door. Malfoy stocked off into the rain, no shoving the students who weren't into a carriage quickly into one.

Ron, now alone as he wished, crossed his arms sullenly. Of course, Malfoy would have known by now. He was always amongst the top of the list in the gossip chain at Hogwarts. Furthermore, it wasn't as if he and Lavender were quiet about the fight. Had he heard such a loud fight outside his compartment door, he would have taken a look too. Ron shook his head. He couldn't believe that he had let his temper slip from him when he was telling Lavender about the horror that he had done. Now, he was paying for it more than ever. Guilt and Shame were very nearly devouring him . The carriages finally started off towards Hogwarts.

He was no longer as furious as he had been, but had, in the past ten minutes, turned slowly over to the despair of depression. The notion of no longer having Lavender as his girlfriend, whom he had hoped to one day be his wife, hit him like a freight train. His broad shoulders sagged, feeling the pressing issue of the burden he had claimed. His sad blue eyes looked out over the fairly bleak terrain, made various shades of grey by the incessant rain. How he longed to take it back, take everything back, so he could be with Lavender again.

Ron was quite sure that there was no other being on earth that was as wonderful as Lavender Brown. In his eyes, she was the definition of perfect. She was undeniably beautiful. Lavender had long, slightly curly blonde hair. This hair seemed to be fairly normal to the human eye, but Ron knew better. How many times had he ran his hands through her hair, while he kissed her, while he teased her, when they embraced? Even though he thought his hand to no be worthy of such a splendorous thing, he had let his hands fall through her hair every day that they had been in each others presence, which was quite a lot. Her hair, like the rest of her, was a glorious thing: luscious, golden in colour, with curls so beautiful you had to look again just to make sure you hadn't imagined it, and, most importantly, it was silken, like the most expensive cloth money could buy, all in all completely intoxicating. Sometimes, when he ran his hands through her hair and she looked up at him, he thought his pauper hands to not be worthy of touching this expensive silken hair.

But Lavender didn't care that he was poor. He loved her for it, too. As he stared out the window, a now seemingly distant memory crept into his mind, an old passing in time, now apparently hollow. It had been a late night, a Saturday, in the Gryffindor common room. It was particularly quiet that evening, all of the student having retired to their beds, with only the snow and wind gently rapping at the windows to serve a sound to the silence of it all. However, in a fairly distant corner, two people, madly in love, were laying on a lavish red carpet next to a fire blazing in the hearth. The boy had his arm draped affectionately around the blonde girl, who was slowly, idly tracing a manicured finger over the embroidered gold leaves on the rug. She was smiling distantly, watching her fingers trace patterns in the rug, while her lover was staring at her with a sort of awe, caught up in their sweet moment.

"Lavender?" Ron asked, a troubling expression coming over his face as the silence broke. He did not take his arm off of her.

The blonde turned her pretty head and smiled at him, the firelight flickering contentedly in her deep blue eyes. "Yes?"she purred.

Ron looked troubled. His red eyebrows, whose very colour mimicked the fire before them, creased in uncertainty. It was obvious something was pressing on his mind. He took his time, however, and Lavender patiently waited, knowing that when he was fully ready, whatever was on his mind would be ushered forth. There was no point in trying to urge him, for he would become frustrated and angry. Lavender, understanding this, kept her smile and waited.

It took him a while to find the right words. They came out in a tumble, but he was relieved to finally get it out: "Lav, does it bother you that I'm poor?"

Lavender was shocked. Her smile waned for a small second, but she kept her gaze intently on him. "No, it doesn't bother me, Ron," she said.

Ron didn't seem to be satisfied with her answer. "Really? Are you sure? I mean, with your family...."he prompted.

Lavender almost wanted to hit him, but refrained. She loved him too much, honestly, to ever harm him intentionally. "I'm positive, Ron. Positive. My family may be well off, but it's you I want, not your money," she said before launching into a story. 

She came from a wealthy family, pureblooded, and money was unnecessary to her. She had told him that for all of her life, she had been around rich wizards and witches, who flaunted their money at any given opportunity, trying to gain popular vote and the affections of others. It worked most of the time, really, except when it came to her. Lavender didn't care in the slightest about the money, really, but rather what kind of person was behind it. Ron believed every word of it, and he knew it all to be true; he trusted her. But this did not stop his mind from reeling, what if she was lying? Ron, despite what she had told him, still felt insecure in the issue of money, and he was not afraid to express it to her.

Lavender looked at him with an expression of deep care and concern. She paused for a moment, watching the firelight play across his face and hair. She lifted a hand to that flaming red hair she adored, and trailed a delicate finger from his hair to his forehead, nose, and lips before it finally came to rest at his freckled cheek. Ron relished in her every movement, loving the feel of her soft skin moving against his; his eyes fluttered closed, but quickly snapped open, not wanting to miss anything, and he found himself wishing to stay in this moment forever. Her voice finally stirred his thoughts. "Ron, I don't need money to make me happy. I have enough of it on my own; anymore would be pointless in having. We couldn't spend it in a lifetime. Ron, all I need is love; all I need is you," she said with finality. 

Ron let out a happy and somewhat relieved sigh before bending down to kiss her chastely on her soft pink lips. Lavender, however, was apparently not at all pleased with this chaste little kiss, for she giggled quietly and immediately grabbed his red hair and pulled him towards her, forcing him to kiss her. He was more than happy to oblige... 

One single tear slid down Ron Weasely's face. He made no move to wipe it, but instead looked sullenly out the window, laying his forehead against it and trying not to pay attention to the blistering cold that emanated from it. 

  
  


*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

  
  


Draco Malfoy crossed his arms moodily, glaring at the wall of the carriage that was behind Granger's bushy head. He had been silent since he entered the carriage with her, and Hermione Granger could clearly see that he was very angry about something. She had her eyebrow perked up quizzically, but her mouth remained shut, and wisely so. An angry man was a bad thing, but an angry Malfoy was a natural disaster.

Malfoy wanted to turn his attention to Granger, which made himself angrier than before, but stubbornly kept his glare on the wall. Hermione pulled a small leather-bound book out of her worn bag. Draco, upon noticing this, as he tore his eyes away from the wall and allowed them to focus on Granger, snorted and rolled his eyes. "Not even at school yet and already pulling out books, eh, Granger?" he said, sneering.

Hermione did not turn her head from her book, but looked up at him through her eyelashes. "Oh, no, Malfoy. It's not an educational book, exactly," she said easily, then reached in her bag for a quill. "It's a book I'm making."

Draco raised a silver eyebrow, intrigued as to what she was putting in the book. He caught a glimpse of the spine of the book, and was rewarded with the silver engravings of Hermione A. Granger. The diary on the train he registered. "So a diary, is it?"

She put her quill to a page and began writing in her neat and tidy script. "Not exactly, Malfoy," she said simply, completely intent on her writing.

Draco was now unusually curious. "Well, what's in it, then?" he asked, all notation of anger gone from his deep voice.

"What's it to you? You've never been interested on what I've done before, Malfoy," she said, now breaking her concentration on what she had been writing. 

Draco frowned. "Of course I've taken interest in what you've done," he said simply, waving a dismissive hand.

Hermione looked up at him. "Oh really? Why?" Curiosity and doubtfulness crossed her every feature.

Draco started to become uncomfortable. She had never really looked at him without glaring, and now, with her curious brown eyes upon him, he wished that she had been glaring. It was much easier to deal with her angry. He took a moment to think about how exactly he had taken interest in her. "Well, Granger, you know how the saying goes, keep your friends close, keep your enemies closer. I've got to keep an eye on you and Pothead and Weasel, see what you're up to, see if I can report you for anything. You've had quite a few run-ins with me when you're about breaking rules, Granger. I'd love to see you get punished," he said, the last line being more evil than the rest on purpose, having made it quite clear it was an innuendo, as his eyes had been raking her body as he said it. 

Granger glared at him. Ah, back to the familiar. Draco thought gleefully. "You're sick, Malfoy!"

He smiled, crossing his long, muscular arms and leaning back comfortably. "That I am," he said, keeping his smile. "Hasn't anyone told you, Granger? I'm a sadistic masochist."

Hermione was appalled.

Draco's smile widened. He was in a much better mood now.

  
  


*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

  
  


DISCLAIMER: Roses are red, violets are blue, me own none, so you no sue!

  
  


Author's Note:Well, well, well... Three chapters into the bloody story and they haven't even stepped foot inside Hogwarts yet. Ah, well. All in good time, all in good time. Sorry for the relatively short chapter, but I hope you all paid close attention to it; it's the most important one I've written yet. It gets into Draco's psyche (well, MY Draco's psyche... I'm afraid I might have made him quite a good bit out of character....*cringes* I hate that.). We find out a lot about his past, and how he's questioning (but not yet entirely defying) what he was raised in, as well as his state of mental health, which sort of seems to be deteriorating at the moment under the constant pressure of his life. Yes, he is slowly going crazy, but he probably will be saved, even though I think it would be terribly fun to write about a literally insane Draco Malfoy. Now that I think of it, I'll probably save that for a later fiction. It sounds rather interesting, doesn't it? Anywho, like I said, this was an important chapter in the story, hope you all paid attention, respectively. If you didn't, you will be properly lost in later chapters, of that I can guarantee.

Just to forewarn you, this fiction, in case you haven't yet noticed, you daft piece of cardboard, is going to be fairly dark, at sometimes extremely dark, and full of angst. Yes, there will be nice moments, happy moments, even sweet *cringes* moments, all in due time. Got to preheat the oven before you stick in the turkey, no? Anywho, this will be a dark fiction, I promise you that whether you want me to or not. Yes, there will be deaths, there will be violence, there will be jealousy, tradition, torture, murder, rivalries, war, and sex (of course, on that last bit, quite a few of you probably did perk up). In this fiction we will explore not only surroundings and feelings, but the condition of the mind as it as deployed under extreme and various pressures. That can be very dark, indeed. However, there will also be much humour, friendship, hope, compassion, lust, love.... All of these play a vital role in the most epic war of all time: Love. I think that it is clear now Draco and Hermione will have a rough time, but aren't all great things worth fighting for? Of course they are. Makes a great experience, a great story, if you will. You have been warned.

  
  


Quick Notes: So surprised, really, about how you all felt so terrible for Ron. Believe me, all of that will get sorted out in due time, for better or for worse. The parents of both Draco and Hermione will play bigger roles, as will Harry, who is standoffish at the moment. Ginny, too. However, not quite so much Quidditch, though there will be some. There will be several.... surprises, shall we say? And war. A very, very big war...Mentally and physically...

  
  


***EXTREMELY IMPORTANT NOTE***: Okay, people. I am vacationing in the South of France for 2.5 weeks. Packing my bags as you're reading this, probably. It's my break, so don't mope on about how I positively need to update, even if I do. My next update will be in about 3 weeks, I daresay. Hey, a girl has got to take a break every once in a while, no? However, please keep reviewing, dahlings. 

What's even more surprising is the *wonderful* responses I got. I got so many. I feel so honoured, everyone. I feel like accepting an Oscar or something...You like me, you really like me!....Well, okay, you like my story! You really like my story! So, to show my appreciation for you wonderful people out there, here is my thank-you section, as always!

  
  
  
  


Thank You's (Yes, I can be rather redundant.):

  
  


Kristina Chang: Thank you for your review. I thought I was off to a rather bad start, honestly, but apparently this is not so. The humour was indeed intentional; there were a lot of dark themes and I felt that I had to put some funny scenes in to lighten the mood a bit, so my readers won't get too depressed and stop reading! Glad you like my writing:)

Amber: Well, the new chapter's up, obviously. And what did you want to know? You never told me, so I'm still scratching my head on that one.

Yassou: I simply want to hug you right now, I really do, but I don't know if you would like that or not. Absolutely smashing review, honestly, it was exemplary in what I like in reviews. You told me what you liked, what you didn't like, the best aspect of the story in your opinion, and a bit of constructive criticism. The perfect balance. Wow. Thank you so very much. After reader your review, I'm sure that I positively glowed for a couple of hours or so. Thank you for both your praise and constructive criticism. My reader's opinions count a great deal to me. About Mrs. Malfoy, there is a reason behind the madness and why she says all that, but I haven't quite gotten there yet. Don't jump the guns just now! Please keep reviewing! Wow... I'm on someone's favourites list... I believe you may be the first to hold me in those reguards. Well, cheers!

sandy: Thank you for the French bit. I asked Grandmere later on how to say certain things in French (she's fluent) and got that cleared up a bit. And, obviously, I'm continuing the story. Thanks for the compliment!

I-LOVE-DRACO: Hey! I do too! Well, I've posted. Hope you're happy with this chappy!:)

milehigh: Yes, there will diffidently be some steamy scenes later on. GUARANTEED. (sp?)

Sonicfan: Yes, I too like how I didn't make Draco and Hermione fall in love straight away; it rather takes from a story, doesn't it? Honestly, love does not pop out of nowhere. It takes a bit, no? And yes, I know that you, along with so many other people, feel bad for Ron. I promise that issue will be clarified and sorted out in due time. Thanks for the review!

Columbine: Ludicrous. Writing can never be taken too seriously unless you're analyzing it, but in this case you are not. You know, stories are supposed to draw you into a different reality. That's half of the fun, is it not? Of course it is, or we all wouldn't love Harry Potter so much. As for making Draco beg Hermione for forgiveness, he will not, though I understand why you want him to.... Let's just say, he'll grovel in a different way, one much more appetizing.... Popcorn, anyone? Cheers! ^_~

Marionette: Thank you for the French lesson! lol... I suppose I'm a bit ignorant, aren't I? Honestly, France is just a tunnel away from me, I should know the language, or at least how to say please. I'm oh-so-ashamed of myself, really. I'm glad that you "totally and completely adored" my story thus far. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Ron will be happier in later chapters, though, so don't you worry! Thank you!

ravenclaw-gal: I know. I feel dreadful for writing Lavender that upset. Part of me just wants to wring Ron's neck, but then I remember it's me who wrote it. As for the masquerade ball, it's come up in my mind before. Still debating on whether or not to write it in the story, though. Keep reviewing! Cheers to my first repeating reviewer!

Jadziaxxx: Still trying to figure out how to pronounce your name, you know. Ah, well... Glad you think my writing's original. I'm sure you do like true to character, but there are certain reasons why Hermione turned Ron in that will be revealed in a later chapter. Also, she's feeling very dutiful to her new Head Girl position now, which just enforced her actions. It not like she turned him in for what he was really doing, though. He's still her friend, mind you. As to Ron's behaviour and words, if you read the books, he is a fairly irrational person, really, especially when emotions come into play. Also, we've never really seen him in a romantically-linked situation yet, save for the scene with Hermione after the Yule Ball in their fourth year, in which case he was irrational. Therefore, we honestly don't know how he would or would not react, for it isn't even in his canon yet. I'm just writing a possibility in my own little world, you know? After all, it is FAN fiction, isn't it? Sorry if it sounds like I'm snapping at you, because I'm really not. I'm simply telling the reasons behind why I made the characters do what they did in this story and defending my writing, so no harm done, you know? Anywho, thank you very much for the compliment on the dialogue between Hermione and Draco. I've worked quite a bit on it and I must say that I am very pleased to hear that it was effective! Please keep reviewing; I love your input! Cheers!

littledoll: Yes, I'll email you with updates because you complimented me personally. Glad you think that I am good author, really, and thank you for saying that I'm funny and open and such. Lovely, dear. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy! Thank you very much, and I promise to keep updating.

Jase: Umm....Yes, yes, I think I will continue writing the story. No worries there.

Blanche Dubois: Yes, Malfoy is a jerk, a very sexy jerk. I'm trying to keep him in canon, but I'm afraid that I may be failing miserably. Oh, well... I've seen worse, I suppose. Very glad you're reading my fic because it's well-written and not just because it's rated 'R'... Just checking, you know. So many people out there just want to get their jollies off on the sex in the stories... It's very odd. Anywho, thank you very much for the compliments and reviews! They are very much appreciated!

squorpionlady: Odd spelling of your name, really, but no matter... Firstly, thank you for reviewing twice:) Yes, I know it's all very sad in the story, and I wanted to cry after writing a few of the scenes, but there's no use in crying over spilt milk. Things will look up for Ron and the rest, so don't worry. It's other things coming in this story that will be worth your tears. Like I said in the Author's Notes, it is very much going to be a dark fiction. However, it will be worth your while, I promise. Thank you for your reviews!

porcelain-starfish: Your name is a bit of an oxymoron. Sorry, I'm being weird, but you know, starfish are practically indestructible unless you destroy their center or take them out of water, for they regenerate and all, and porcelain is just so fragile... I dunno. I'm just amused. Anywho, glad I've got you hooked. If you like post-Hogwarts fictions, I suggest "Dark Wind" by Hype (shameless plug, really; that's my other pseudonym.) ^_~

Jamie: Thanks! Glad you like the story thus far! And the emphasis on *wonderful* didn't hurt, either! *grins*

Angelic hope: Love the name. Right then. Oh, yes, I have every intention of continuing this fiction, I just emmensely enjoy both writing and getting reviews. It's a lot of fun for me, really. Glad you like my story!

Lavender Trish: Obviously, I've just updated. Though, I must tell you that it takes a while to write this, and I have a very busy life as it is. I'm an artist, and I travel a lot during breaks. On top of it, I'm still in schooling at St. Andrews, which has a most demanding academic schedule. I've got quite a bit to do. So, if I take a week or two to update, you now know why. Anyway, glad you like the story. Please review again! 

kagie-chan: Well, glad you like some parts, but disappointed you don't like other parts, or, in your words "yikes". Disappointed even more so that you didn't tell me one single part of what you liked or what you didn't like. Just giving me that much would be very nice, you know. Called *constructive* criticism. That's what helps writers. Anywho, keep reviewing. I hope I can get more out of you with this chapter! ^_~

  
  


See all of the beautiful thank-you's? Wouldn't you like to get one, too? I betcha would. I know you would. You know you want it... You can get one too, simply review, it's not much... Takes one simple moment of your time to review, you know, so.....

  
  


Please Review.

  
  


S'il vous plaît la revue. 

  
  


Por favor revisión. 

  
  


Bitte Nachprüfung. 

  
  


Per favore la revisione. 

  
  


Alstublieft beoordeling. 

  
  


Por revisão de favor. 

  
  


Behag anmeldelse. 

  
  


There you go. "Please Review" in eight different languages: English, French, Spanish, German, Italian, Dutch, Portuguese, and Norwegian (albeit a little butchered, perhaps). Does that send you a message? Hope it does. Obviously, I love reviews. One of my pleasures in life. So.....

  
  


DON'T BE A CHICKEN! BE A MAN (OR WOMAN!) AND REVIEW!!!!! (I'm quite done now, thank you.)


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